Bethany Sutton
by Colt And Katana
Summary: Beth Greene is put into Witness Protection after she witnesses the murder of a man by corrupt police officers. As she waits to testify and try to get her old life back together, and to be reunited with her father and sister, she meets the mysterious older man, Daryl Dixon, in the apartment across the hall from hers. He's aloof, sexy, and a man of questionable moral practices.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: I'm in the midst of a move so updates to this fic won't be frequent.

**Summary**: Beth Greene is put into Witness Protection after she witnesses the murder of a man by corrupt police officers. As she waits to testify and try to get her old life back together, and to be reunited with her father and sister, she meets the mysterious older man, Daryl Dixon, in the apartment across the hall from hers. He's aloof, sexy, and a man of questionable moral practices. As intriguing as Daryl is, Beth is afraid to fall in love while her life is under constant threat from the dirty cops looking to silence her, and those she loves, forever. AU. No walkers.

* * *

_**The night that changed Beth Greene's **_life forever was an ordinary Friday night.

She was late getting off work from her job at Miller's Pharmacy, which was in a small strip mall a few miles from her house. She hurried to the bank to deposit her pay check. The last thing she needed was a check to bounce. That would earn her a lecture from her father, which would in turn spark a fight. It seemed that was all they did since her stepmother passed away six months prior.

With her check deposited she left the bank drive through and headed out to Cooper's market. She had a taste for some ice cream, and though it would have been more convenient, and closer, to shop at one of the bigger chains, she preferred to give her business to Mr. Cooper. The market had been in his family for seventy years, and he needed the business to keep it going.

The parking lot was full, but not with business for Mr. Cooper. Cars clogged the streets, spilling over from a revival service that was going on at the Zion Baptist Church across the street. She found a spot not too far away from the store and headed in.

"Evening, Mr. Cooper," Beth said in greeting.

Mr. Cooper was old enough to retire, but he preferred to work the register himself in the evenings. He grinned at her in an odd way, as though relieved to see her.

"Evening, Beth! I haven't seen you in quite a while."

"I've been working at Miller's. I also take classes online, so I'm usually too busy to get out and do much shopping."

"You haven't been going to that big chain market down the road, have you?" he said, peering at her over his half-rim glasses.

"I wouldn't dare!"

He smiled playfully and Beth headed back toward the dairy section. She wasn't surprised to see that Mr. Cooper's niece, Mathilda, had closed down the kitchen for the night. Beth used to like to come and get hot dogs or cheeseburgers here.

She stood eying the selection of flavors of ice cream when she heard the door jingle from up front. She tried to choose between Rocky Road and Death by Chocolate. She was still trying to decide when she heard Mr. Cooper's frightened voice.

"Please, Officer, I don't have it all right now. I'll have the payment in full on Monday, I promise!"

"Payday is now, not Monday, Cooper," said one of the two men who'd come into the store. Beth peered cautiously around one of the aisles. She saw two men had entered, both wearing hoodies. She could make out the face of the man who switched off the open sign and slid the lock in place when he turned back to the counter. It was a cop named Martinez.

The other man was someone Beth couldn't quite place. She thought his name may have been Nelson or Neil. He was a big brute of a man who dwarfed Martinez.

"Business has been really slow," said Mr. Cooper.

"Yeah, that's why you took the loan," Nelson/Neil said.

"Mr. Negan, I promise you-"

"Martinez, does this song and dance seem familiar to you?" Negan asked.

"Sure does. He does it every single Friday night."

"I honestly don't have all of it."

"Twenty-five hundred. That's the payment amount," said Negan.

"I've got a thousand in cash right now. I can have the rest by Monday, I swear it!"

"That's really fucking unfortunate for you, Cooper," said Negan. "Martinez. You know the drill."

"Please," Mr. Cooper begged. "Please, I'm begging you. I'll have all your money on-"

Martinez pulled a gun and Beth watched him unload three shots straight into Mr. Cooper's chest. She gasped in horror as Mr. Cooper slumped against the counter and then hit the floor with a heavy thump. She stood still, feeling adrenaline course through her veins, making her heart thud and her ears ring. She prayed they hadn't heard anything but she didn't figure her luck would run that good. Without wasting time, Beth headed for the storeroom in back. She had, on a few occasions growing up, helped load and unload product for a few extra dollars for summer spending when she was younger. She knew how to get out quietly.

"You hear something?" Negan said.

"I'll go look."

Beth hurried now, rushing for the back door. She threw it open, surprised by how warm and balmy the evening air was. It hadn't seemed that hot or humid to her when she'd first entered Cooper's Grocery. The sky was still a beautiful shade of blue, unmarred by a single cloud, and the sunlight hurt Beth's eyes and made them water.

She ran for her father's truck, a beat up old Chevy, and jumped inside. When she looked around she saw Martinez raising his gun. It seemed to happen in slow motion. She watched the barrel of the gun level with her before suddenly lowering. He only stopped when he heard the screeching laughter of a group of teenaged kids who were running off some excess energy as they left the church from across the street.

Beth hurried into the truck, started it up, and peeled out.

"Fuck," she said, in a rare instance of cursing. She slammed her hands against the steering wheel. "Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

She'd witnessed a murder. The trigger man had seen her face. Even worse…he was a cop.

* * *

_**Beth sped up to her father's **_house, laying on the horn as she came. She had to warn them. Martinez may not know who she was, but he'd get the numbers from the truck's tags and find out where she lived. He and Negan would gun her entire family down to keep them from talking.

"Beth, what's the matter?" Hershel Greene said, exiting the farm house with a look of concern on his wizened face.

"I saw them kill Mr. Cooper!"

"What?"

"Mr. Cooper's dead, Daddy!" she sobbed, throwing herself into her father's arms.

"Calm down and tell me what you're talking about."

"We've gotta get Maggie and get out of here. Daddy, we have to go _now_!"

"What-"

Beth was panicked. She was going to lose her mind if she couldn't make him understand. She had no idea how long they had before death came riding up to their doorstep.

"I was at Mr. Cooper's grocery. I was in back of the store. Two cops came in. They were off-duty. They wanted money from Mr. Cooper. He owed them. He didn't have it so they shot him three times. Daddy, the guy who shot Mr. Cooper saw me! He's got the tag numbers, he'll know where we live."

"Beth, tell me you're not joking," her sister Maggie said. She'd come out of the house at the sound of all the commotion.

"Of course not! I wouldn't joke about something like this!"

"What do we do?" Maggie asked, looking pale and frightened.

"You saw two policemen murder Ed Cooper?" Hershel asked, and it infuriated Beth that he didn't seem as panicked as she felt.

"Yes, Daddy! They saw me, too! They know the truck they know where we live."

"Get in the truck. I've got to get my wallet," Hershel said. He ran back inside the house while Maggie and Beth hurried to the truck. Beth trembled, taking up a spot in the center of the bench seat. Maggie tried to hold her but her touch wasn't soothing. It just made her feel tied down.

"Hurry, Daddy…" Beth whispered.

Hershel finally came out. He carried a shotgun and nothing else. The lights were still on in the house, forgotten, as he climbed behind the wheel.

"Tell me one more time everything that happened. Try to stay calm," Hershel said.

Beth went through it again, though it was the last thing she wanted to do. She kept her eyes peeled for any sign of trouble as he pulled out of their long dirt drive and onto the main road. She flinched in fear of every car they passed. He had both his daughters duck, just in case one of the cars was Martinez.

He stopped at an ATM and withdrew some cash before returning to the truck. In minutes they were on the highway, heading toward Atlanta. Thankfully no one seemed to be following them. It was dark before he stopped and parked the truck in an empty parking lot a few blocks away from a cheap motel of questionable moral practices that didn't demand ID and took cash. He had Maggie and Beth wait outside, out of the view of the proprietor, and asked for a single bed. None of them relaxed until they were finally locked in a room.

"What are we gonna do?" asked Maggie. "Who polices the police?"

"I'm gonna call the FBI first thing in the morning," said Hershel. "Until then, you girls take the bed and try to get some sleep."

Sleep was unlikely for any of them. Beth lay and stared at the sickly yellow light that stained the wall opposite the bed like a pool of urine. She jumped at every sound, as did Maggie. Finally she slipped into sleep out of sheer exhaustion.

* * *

_**Special Agent Shane Walsh stood in **_the office of Cooper's Grocery searching for the security camera footage. He wasn't surprised to discover it was missing. That was the MO of the dirty cops he was investigating.

The body of Edward Cooper was wheeled out of the store at 3a.m. on Saturday morning. It had been flagged in the system as fitting the pattern set by Bruce Negan. Shane had been alerted and he'd come out first thing. He couldn't, of course, trust the cops investigating Cooper's murder since any one of them could either be as dirty as Negan, or simply too afraid of him to put a stop to him.

"Found anything?" asked Dt. Mercer.

"No, nothing. Security footage has been taken."

"There's footage from the church security cameras across the street," she said. "I've taken the liberty of getting copies made."

Shane smiled for the first time since waking up and hurrying out to the crime scene. "You don't say?"

"I say," Mercer agreed.

If there was a clean cop in the Senoia PD it would be Brigid Mercer. Shane didn't completely trust her, but she'd come through for him before. He was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt as much as possible.

They headed out to his truck and she handed him a DVD disk which he slid into the laptop mounted to his dash. A few seconds later footage of the church lot came up. It showed, with fairly decent clarity for a security cam, Cooper's Grocery across the street.

"Here's the interesting part," she said. "Notice this old blue truck."

A young blond girl got out and walked around to the front entrance.

"We didn't find an extra body in the store," Shane said.

"Just watch."

Five minutes later Negan and Martinez could be seen blocking in a couple of cars as they got out and headed into the store. There were flashes of light on the screen a couple of minutes after the open sign was switched off.

"Gunfire," said Shane.

"Look here."

A minute later the blond girl burst out of the back of the store. She hurried to the truck and Martinez came out. The only thing that saved her from being gunned down were some kids coming out to the church for a break, probably looking for somewhere to smoke.

"I'll have the lab look at this. I want those plates," Shane said.

Mercer nodded in agreement. "Look, Walsh, I know you have a job to do, and I'll do all I can to help, but Negan and Martinez aren't alone. They deal drugs, they run a prostitution ring…they're dangerous. They make loans that people kill themselves to pay back and I think that's what happened here. They killed Mr. Cooper to send a message to those who owe them money to pay up or die."

"You're afraid."

"I've got two kids to think about. My ex-husband is a scumbag drunk that I won't allow anywhere near them."

"I understand, believe me I do. Just do what you can. I won't let anyone know we're working together."

"I can't make too much progress on this case. Negan will want it buried."

"You do what you gotta do to stay safe and keep your kids safe. I'll handle this."

Mercer cocked a brow at him. "When this is over, what do you say you and I go out for a drink?"

"Sounds good."

Mercer's cell rang. She answered. "Mercer…I see…Okay, sir. I'm on it," she said.

"Well?"

"That was Chief Negan," she said. "There was a truck spotted at the crime scene that's been located about ten miles outside of Atlanta. He wants me to locate the potential witness and bring her in."

"Plate numbers?" Shane asked.

She called in for the tag numbers of the vehicle.

"It's registered to Hershel Greene."

"Hershel is a man. How did Negan know the 'potential' witness was a girl?"

"That's a question to ask him in court, if this ever gets to trial," said Mercer, before she climbed out of Shane's truck.

"I'm heading to that truck," he said.

"I guess I'll run into you there, accidentally like," she said, and shut the door.

* * *

_**From his vantage point in his**_ room, Hershel watched as two unmarked cars approached his truck. Beth and Maggie were asleep, thank God. Hershel eyed his watch. It was five-thirty in the morning. If those cops were worth their salt they'd check every motel in the area. They'd knock on every door.

They'd find him, his girls, and take them to Senoia where the police there had been corrupt for a very long time. From there all three of them would have a terrible 'accident,' Hershel was sure of it.

"Girls, wake up."

They were normally slow to awaken, but this time they sprung up, their faces fearful.

"What is it, Daddy?" asked Maggie.

"Two people are sniffing around our truck. They must be cops," he said. "We need to go, now."

"Go where?" asked Beth, wiping her eyes. "Shouldn't we hide here?"

"They'll ask around. They'll have my name and most likely a description of me. I can't use my credit card. It's too easy to trace."

"What do we do?"

"We walk. We keep moving until we can get in touch with someone from the FBI."

Hershel led his daughters from the room. Without drawing attention to themselves, they quietly walked away from the motel and headed into the early light of dawn.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: I'm posting this now before I go offline. I'll only have net access through my phone. I'll return as soon as possible. Happy reading!

* * *

_**The diner that Hershel, Beth, and **_Maggie stopped at served greasy, overcooked food, but it put something hot in their empty bellies. They sat quietly, tensely, at a booth near the back of the diner, away from the windows, hoping not to be seen or draw any attention.

"Careful with this coffee," Maggie said, frowning. "It's liable to put hair on your chest."

"Is that them?" Beth asked, ignoring her sister in favor of looking at the two men who entered the diner. She'd asked that same question of everyone who'd walked in.

"Daddy said it was a red-haired woman and a man with black hair and a beard," Maggie snapped. "He's told you that ten times already!"

"Well excuse me!" Beth shot back in a caustic whisper.

"Don't you two start bickering," Hershel managed calmly, looking between his two daughters. "We need to stay calm and patient."

"Hershel Greene."

All three of the Greene's froze before slowly looking up at the man who'd come into the diner and walked right up to their table without them noticing his arrival. He produced a badge with the words FBI in big print.

"Special Agent Shane Walsh. May I have a seat?"

Without word, Maggie scooted over so he could sit across from her father.

"I'm currently investigating police corruption in Senoia. I reviewed security footage that led me to your vehicle. I have to hand it to you, Mr. Greene. You would have been hard to catch had I not seen the photos of your family and just happened to see you leave the motel a few blocks from where you parked."

"I meant to call the FBI today," Hershel said. "Do the corrupt cops know we're here?"

"Yes," Shane said, nodding. "They located your truck. I located you. The police chief, Bruce Negan, knows Beth is the witness to the Cooper shooting. He won't give up looking for Beth, or for you and your daughter, until you're dead."

"What happens now?" asked Beth.

"I need to take you all to the Atlanta office. You can't go home, not until we can get evidence against Negan. You'll need to testify to what you saw, Beth-"

"No," Hershel said at once. "That's much too dangerous. They could kill her on the way to the stand."

Shane nodded in understanding. He'd dealt with unwilling witnesses before. He understood their reluctance. He still needed to impress upon them the vital importance of Beth's testimony if they ever wanted to live a normal life again.

"You need to understand, Mr. Greene. Beth is the only eyewitness to survive long enough for me to speak directly to. I need to get all three of you into custody until we can bring Negan and Martinez to trial. If you don't cooperate I can't guarantee your safety."

"But you're the FBI," said Beth.

"I work with the Department of Justice to get witnesses into the WitSec program. They'll protect you, get you new identities, new homes and jobs, until you can testify. You can even stay in the program after the trial if you feel your life is still in danger but we can't do any of that unless you agree to testify."

He let that sink in. Beth looked up at her father, who finally deflated on a sigh and nodded.

"Okay," he said. "She'll testify."

* * *

_**Beth spent the morning giving her **_statement. She went over every detail, it seemed, ten times, before they finally ended it. They'd grilled her like she was the killer instead of the victim, and it pissed her off. That anger was the only thing that actually kept her awake.

After questioning was wrapped up Beth was escorted to a room where her photograph was taken. After that she was led to an office where she, Maggie, and Hershel were kept waiting for over two hours. Beth was willing to wait there, even if it did seem as though they'd been forgotten. Beth didn't care. She felt safe for the first time since she'd witnessed the shooting.

Adrenaline had been the only thing that kept all three of the Greene's running for over fifteen hours. Hershel was especially exhausted, since he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep the night before. Beth and Maggie had slept in fits, with nightmares, and they were also tired. Their heads were hanging when a short man with slight build entered the room.

"Hello. I'm Agent Carstairs. I'm here to escort you to transport. If you'll follow me."

"Where is Agent Walsh?"

"He's back in the field," Carstairs said. "Don't worry, you're in safe hands. Agents are ready to transport you to the safe house."

Beth passed a clock with a digital readout. She was surprised it was only two o'clock in the afternoon. It felt like she hadn't slept or rested in days.

The garage they were led into was quiet, though it did echo with the sounds of traffic passing on the street below. A warm breeze blew, stirring the hot, stagnant air and carrying the smell of gasoline and exhaust fumes with it. Two black SUVs were parked just outside of the elevator and several men and women in plain clothes stood looking around, vigilant of a possible assault.

"This is Agent Kelley," Carstairs said, introducing Beth to a tall black woman with a beautiful face and bouncy braids. She nodded at Beth.

Carstairs motioned for Maggie and Hershel to move to the second vehicle, where an Asian man and a middle-aged woman stood waiting.

"This is Agent Rhee and Agent Peletier. Hershel, you and Maggie will go with them to-"

"What about Beth?" Hershel demanded.

"She's going to a different location," said Carstairs. He held up a hand to calm Hershel and Maggie's objections. "If you'll please just take a moment to allow the agents to explain, you'll understand why you have to be split up."

"You explain now," Maggie said. "I'm not leaving without my sister unless you have a damn good reason."

"We have reason to believe that Negan's reach goes deeper than just the Senoia PD," said Agent Kelley.

"We know that he'll be looking for you with search criteria that isn't limited to your names, since he knows that you're probably in Federal custody," said Agent Peletier.

"He'll look for groups of people that match your physical descriptions. An older white male with two young white females who fit your ages," said Agent Rhee. "We need to split you up, make it as difficult as possible for him to locate you. You're going deep."

"What do you mean, deep?" asked Beth.

"I can explain that later. For now it's best you , come with me."

"Daddy…" Maggie said worriedly.

"This is necessary?" Hershel asked Carstairs.

"Yes sir. It really is," Carstairs confirmed.

Hershel hugged Beth. "I don't want to leave you, Darling. You know that, but you and Maggie's safety is all that matters to me. I'll call you as soon as we get to wherever we'll be staying."

"I'm sorry, sir, but you won't be able to contact one another until the trial is over and Miss Greene has testified," said Agent Peletier. "I know how difficult this is. I've been in this business a long time. In the end, when Negan and his people are put away for good, you'll know that this was worth it."

Maggie and Beth hugged one another goodbye. Beth hugged her father again and then climbed into the back seat. Agent Kelley jumped in the front passenger side. That's when she noticed the man behind the wheel for the first time.

"Agent Grimes," Agent Kelley said. The man in the front seat nodded to Beth. He had striking blue eyes, from what she could see of them in the rearview mirror.

Beth turned in her seat and looked to the back. Even though the windows were almost blacked out she could make out the form of the other SUV that carried her father and sister. They were all she had left in the world and now she was completely alone. They turned in the opposite direction that Agent Grimes drove and soon they were completely out of sight.

"You're going to be okay, Miss Sutton," Agent Grimes said.

"My name is Greene," Beth said.

"Not anymore," he replied.

* * *

_**They traveled for hours, stopping only **_once to use the bathroom and to fuel up. Beth realized she hadn't eaten since that morning but her appetite was gone. Agent Kelley insisted she at least try to eat something so she sat in the back of the truck nibbling on a soft taco and sipping on a soda. She did have to admit it made her feel better.

Finally they pulled to a stop at an apartment building in a small town. It was a rather small, three story structure that had parking in the back. Agent Kelley went in first and was gone for over five minutes before coming to the door and nodding.

"You go ahead and go in. I'll park the truck," Agent Grimes said.

Beth climbed out of the cool confines of the truck and stepped into an oven. They were further south than Senoia and it was hotter and more humid. The hallway of the building was stuffy and smelled of food that someone was cooking in one of the units.

"This is your unit," Agent Kelley said, handing her the keys to Apartment 2B. "Agent Grimes and I will be in Apartment 2D, right next door, at all times. I'll be back in an hour. Don't leave your unit, don't open the door for anyone but me or Agent Grimes. Ask who is knocking if you can't see them through the peep, okay?"

Beth nodded, using the keys to unlock the doors while Agent Kelly started down the hall. Beth entered what would be her home for the foreseeable future and took stock of the place.

It was devoid of any kind of personal touch. There wasn't a single decoration but it was furnished with all the necessities. Because it was a studio apartment the bed had been shoved into a nook with a curtain hung up for privacy. The kitchen had a coffee maker, a blender, and a stand mixer, a stove, and a refrigerator. Beth went over to the ancient looking window AC unit and turned it on. The musty smell that came out nearly made her gag.

Since a thick layer of dust covered every surface, Beth rummaged through a walk-in cupboard for cleaning supplies. She found a bottle of wood oil, as well as some bathroom cleaning supplies, and a dust mop.

It was easier to pass the hour she had to wait on Agents Kelley and Grimes to return by throwing herself into something useful, so she began wiping down the wooden surfaces with oil, and she used the dust mop to clean the wood floors. She was still polishing the floor when someone knocked on the door.

Without thinking, Beth opened the door, expecting one of her guardians, but instead found herself facing a handsome, middle-aged man wearing a gray tee-shirt over a pair of form-fitting jeans that were just tight enough to tease the eye. He had short, sandy blond hair and striking blue eyes, and the broadest, strongest shoulders she'd ever seen on a man.

"You management?" he asked, in lieu of a polite greeting.

"Uh…no. I'm moving in," she said.

He crossed his arms, the muscles in his arms bulged slightly. "Is it too late to warn you away from the building?" he asked on a very slight smile.

"Warn me away?"

"Yeah, they never fix anything here," he said.

"Too late. Rent and deposit is paid," she lied.

His smile broadened, just a little, and he nodded. "Welcome to the building. I'm Daryl Dixon. I'm in 2A."

"Sutton," she said, unsure what her first name was supposed to be. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Sutton."

He turned away and walked back into the unit across from her. From what she could see he had nice taste. She saw an expensive piece of art hanging on the wall, as well as an antique table in the dining area. He shut the door and Beth found that Agent Grimes was approaching with his partner.

"What did Agent Kelley tell you about opening the door to strangers?" he snapped, speaking to her as though she was ten years old.

"You know what? Fuck you!" Beth shouted, and slammed the door in his face.

Agent Kelley looked up at him with a half-smile and said. "She's reached the anger stage."

Rick nodded and sighed. "Oh joy."

* * *

"_**Bethany," Agent Kelley said, entering the**_ apartment behind Beth, who was furiously running the dust mop over the floor, trying to let off some steam. She carried a notebook computer and a thin file.

"My name is Beth!"

"Your name is Bethany Sutton. Here," Michonne said, passing the file to Beth. She set the dust mop aside and took the manila folder to the couch, where she sat down and worked up a puff of dust.

"This is bullshit. I haven't done anything wrong. Why does _my_ whole life have to change because of what they did? Why do I have to give up _my_ family?"

"Because life is sometimes unfair and sucks balls," said Agent Grimes.

He was slightly less obnoxious after that comment.

"You've gotta remember that your life is in danger," Agent Kelly said. "You can't let your guard down. You have to be vigilant and observant."

"Yeah, okay."

"Look at the file, Miss Sutton," said Agent Grimes.

"What are your names? I can't go around calling you guys Agent without attracting attention.

"I'm Michonne, this is Rick. Try to stay awake until ten tonight, at least, so you're not awake all night," she said. "This is your computer. I've got the Wi-Fi password programmed in already. Here's your phone. This ring," she said, holding up a small silver band with a diamond set into it, "has a GPS tracking device. It'll help us keep tabs on your location should something happen. Never take it off. If you get hungry tonight, call in. We'll go shopping tomorrow."

Rick handed Beth a Visa card and said, "It has a five-hundred dollar line of credit."

"Cheapskates," she said, trying to be lighthearted but feeling anything but.

He grinned and said, "Check-in times are six a.m., two p.m., and ten p.m.. If you don't check in we assume the worst and come looking."

"The check-ins are very important, Bethany," Michonne said, using her new name. It was similar enough to remember, but it still wasn't hers and she didn't want to use it."

When they were gone, Beth cracked open the file and began to read. She found a social security card and a new driver's license that used the picture they'd taken of her at the FBI office in Atlanta earlier that day. The name on the documents was Bethany Eleanor Sutton.

She looked god awful but she suspected that someone had Photoshopped the dark circles from around her eyes. She thought she looked old, which was good, because no one would question that she was supposedly twenty-one years old. They had definitely altered her hair in a photo imaging program to make it strawberry blond in color. The birth date was something random. August 7th. She'd have to remember that new detail.

According to the file her parents were Marjorie LeAnn and Clive Michael Sutton. She was an only child. She'd grown up poor and had dropped out of school but earned a GED, which was also included in the file. Beth put the file down and began to chuckle.

That chuckle turned into uncontrollable laughter that was bitter and angry. It then morphed into low, keening sounds of grief as she gave herself over to tears, sadness, and self-pity. She needed her family. She needed to be held.

"Who thinks this shit up?" Beth questioned.

Exhaustion got the better of Beth and she fell into a sleep that was mercifully deep and free of dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Morning dawned to the smell of**_ wood oil and musty air from the AC unit. Beth rolled off the couch, her face sticky with slobber that had drooled out during the night, and checked her phone. It was five forty-five in the morning. She stretched, feeling rested but still lonely and sad.

And hungry.

A look in the fridge showed it was empty and smelled stale. She decided to take a quick shower, even though she'd have to put her dirty clothes back on, since that was all she had to wear. She'd clean the fridge out later and fill it with food from the grocery. She was still toweling her hair dry when she heard a hard knock on the door. She dreaded a confrontation as she opened the door to Rick Grimes' angry face.

"You missed your ten p.m. and your six a.m. check-ins," he said, before pushing his way into the room.

"Good morning to you, too."

"This isn't a joke, Bethany! A missed check-in is a cry for help. Stop crying wolf and take this seriously."

She threw the towel down in frustration. "I _am_ trying to take this seriously! I'm trying to get used to it all! I missed last night because I fell asleep. I was exhausted. This morning I got up and took a shower."

Rick seemed to deflate and let his hands fall from their place on his narrow hips. He'd lost his temper and he knew that wouldn't do either of them a bit of good. He took a moment to sniff the air. "What's that smell?"

"The air conditioner."

"We haven't used this apartment in over eighteen months," he explained. "We'll get you a new AC unit."

"I need food and clothes, too. Do I just use the card for that?"

"The card is for emergencies. We'll supply food and clothes, at least until you can find a job. What's your mother's name?"

She wasn't prepared for the pop quiz. She hesitated and then said "Marjorie LeAnn, I think."

"You think or you know?"

"It's Marjorie LeAnn," she said with more confidence.

"Your father?"

"Clive Michael."

"Your sister's name?"

"I'm an only child. I'm also a high school dropout but I've got my goddamn G-E-D."

He laughed outright at the sass and nodded. "That's correct. Your birth-date, Miss Sutton?"

"August 7th. I'm twenty-one until my next birthday, upon which I'll turn twenty-two."

"You were born where?"

"In Savannah. Which is fucked up because I know nothing about Savannah. What if I meet someone from there and they start talking about the place and I don't know anything about it?"

"Tell them you were raised somewhere else," he replied smoothly.

"Where would that be?"

"Griffin."

"I know Griffin pretty well. I can pass that off. Look, will I be allowed out by myself at all?"

"When you've made all of your check-ins for two straight days I'll consider it. Make the check-in even if you're with me or Michonne."

"Fine. Will do. Can we go out now? I'm starving."

"I'll let Michonne know," said Rick, before leaving and closing the door quietly behind him.

* * *

_**The café at the end of**_ their street served great food. They also needed help, according to the sign that hung from the front door. Beth could believe it. There were two harried waitresses rushing to serve customers, which were really piling in.

"Order up, Bianca!"

"I heard you the first time, Dale!" Beth and Michonne's waitress, a trim, middle-aged Latina snapped back at the short order cook. "That'll be your order. I'll be right back," she said, as she passed their table.

"I'd like to apply here. They could use the help and it'll give me something to do," said Beth.

Michonne nodded. "Sounds like a good idea. Just keep a watch-out for anyone following you or staring at you, or asking you too many personal questions."

"Do you know anything about the other tenants in the building?"

Michonne smiled shrewdly, having an idea of who, specifically, Beth was going to ask about. "We know about all the tenants. Why?"

"Well, there's a guy across the hall that I was curious about."

"Daryl Dixon. Age 40. Suspected gigolo."

Beth burst out laughing. "You're kidding!"

Michonne shook her head. "I'm not. He's had a license to practice massage therapy since 2006 but that's usually a cover for prostitution."

"And you let him live there?"

"He's never been caught," she said on a shrug. "He's not really our concern. You are. Do you find him attractive?"

Beth shrugged. "I did until I found out he's a whore."

Bianca brought their food to their table.

"I'd like to apply for a job," Beth said.

"Oh, honey. Please do! I'll tell Ruby."

She disappeared and Beth hungrily cut into her waffles after drowning them in maple syrup. The bacon on the side was crispy and delicious. She ate half her breakfast before slowing down enough to talk.

"How long have you been an FBI agent?"

"I'm not FBI."

"Oh, right. Department of Justice agent?"

"Not with the DOJ, either," said Michonne.

"Who are you with?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

"CIA?"

Michonne laughed. "No, not CIA. I honestly can't tell you, but you needn't worry. We'll keep you and your family safe."

That answer was a bit vague and not quite good enough for Beth. If Michonne wasn't FBI, or CIA, and wasn't with the Department of Justice, then who the hell _was_ she? "Who are you, Michonne?"

"I'm not at-"

"That's not good enough," Beth said, before sliding out of the booth, her breakfast now forgotten. She almost ran into a short matronly woman with iron gray hair and brown eyes.

"You wanted a job?" the woman said, holding up an application.

Beth took it, wanting nothing more than to get out of the place, but also unwilling to appear rude. She felt an anxiety attack coming on.

"Thanks. I'll fill this out and get it back to you ASAP."

"Don't waste too much time, Doll," the woman said. Her vocal cords sounded as though she'd spent her youth marinating them in whiskey and curing them in cigarette smoke. "I need help right away."

"Right. Understood," Beth said, anxious to get out of the café while her pulse climbed. She heard Michonne thank the woman and then her shoes thud against the floor as she followed Beth out onto the sun drenched sidewalk.

"Beth, what's the matter?"

Rather than answer, Beth started up the street, heading back toward the apartment. Michonne fell into step beside her.

"What's wrong?"

Beth stopped and turned to face Michonne. "Who are you people? You've got me, you've got my family, and you won't even tell me who you are? You could be dangerous!"

"If we were dangerous the FBI wouldn't have handed you over to us. If we were dangerous, Bethany, you would be dead right now," Michonne reasoned. "Would you?"

Beth shrugged. "I don't know. God knows what uses I could have, what uses my family could have."

"You're short on trust. I get that. I don't blame you in the least but you're going to have to learn to trust me. You need to trust Rick. We're on your side, Beth, and we're here to help you get through this until we can put Negan away."

The waffles Beth had eaten felt like a heavy stone in her belly. She rubbed at it and hoped she could hold it down. She was, literally, worried sick about her father and sister. She didn't even know when she'd see them again, or even get to speak to them via the phone.

"Listen, let's get our shopping done and try to take our minds off this. We'll get you some clothes first. There's a cute shop across town that we can start in," Michonne said, trying to lighten the mood and cheer her.

Shopping would normally have put a smile on Beth's face but today she wasn't in the mood. Still, she needed some clothes and a change of shoes.

"I'll tell you what," Michonne said. "I'll talk to my superiors and see if I can't arrange for a phone call next week between you and your father."

"Really?" Beth said, feeling tears sting at her eyes.

"Really. I don't promise anything," Michonne hastened to add, "but I'll do my very best."

Beth nodded, feeling as though a huge weight had been lifted. The idea of talking to her father buoyed her spirits enough for her to concentrate on clothes. She didn't hate everything she saw and by the time one p.m. came around she'd not only picked up a new summer wardrobe she had enough groceries to last for a few weeks.

"Need help with that, Sutton?"

Beth turned around to find the gigolo who lived across the hall. He was wearing Ray-Bans and was covered in speckles of paint. He was sweaty and dirty and god, if he didn't look good enough to climb on right there.

That thought brought heat to Beth's face. She was about to refuse when Michonne said, to Beth's surprise, "We sure could. Thank you."

Michonne loaded him up with four paper bags of groceries while they handled the rest. He even helped bring up her clothes and then Michonne left. Beth found herself alone in her apartment with the man from across the hall.

* * *

_**Michonne decided to leave Beth in**_ the company of Mr. Dixon from 2A. He'd been thoroughly vetted and was monitored to ensure he wasn't a threat or associated, even loosely, to Negan, Martinez, or any other dangerous criminal organization. He checked out. Besides, if Beth's vitals registered distress they would be alerted.

"How did the outing go?" Rick asked, as soon as Michonne came through the door.

"Good. She started to question which agency we work for. She panicked when I told her we're not with any of the agencies she assumed we were with."

"She doesn't need to know we're a private security team," said Rick.

Michonne nodded.

"I saw her vitals spike while yours remained calm. I take it y'all had an argument of some kind?"

Michonne ignored how good Rick looked stretched out in the leather executive chair as he regarded her. She was ignoring a lot about Rick that attracted her to him. Those days were over. She was determined to keep it that way.

"I told her I would try to arrange a call to her father next week."

"Oh, Michonne," Rick sighed.

"I didn't promise her. I just said I'd try, and I will."

"Walsh will probably refuse it. He'll probably say it's not worth the risk," Rick speculated.

"Probably," Michonne agreed. "Still, I'll ask. She's a nineteen-year-old kid. One call to her daddy shouldn't hurt."

Michonne hit the kitchen to make a salad. Beth had cut out on breakfast, which meant she'd had to cut out too. She was starving.

"Any news?" she asked.

"Nothing that pertains to our job. We protect the witnesses. We have nothing to do with the investigation."

"I know that, Rick. You don't need to remind me of my job."

He watched her drizzle dressing over the stuff from a prepackaged salad he'd brought in last night to go with a dinner of baked chicken.

"We gonna talk about it?" he asked.

It was the moment Michonne had been dreading. She knew Rick would dredge up their past. He'd want to talk about their future and how they'd almost kissed the night before.

"No. We said we could work together without drama and we will. As to what almost happened last night, well, it didn't actually happen. Let's leave it at that."

"It'll 'not' happen again if we don't deal with it," he insisted.

"No, it won't."

The phone rang. It was Beth with her 2p.m. check-in.

"She finally learned," said Rick, answering it. "Hello…You're okay? You're not making this call under duress? Good. Talk to you at ten."

He hung up and saw that Michonne had settled onto the couch and turned the TV on.

"I made a shopping list," she said. "Mind running to the store?"

He knew she just didn't want to talk about it so he decided it was best to drop it. For now.

"Sure. See you in a bit."

She ignored him.

* * *

"_**So, you're a painter?" Beth asked**_, once she hung up with Rick.

"Among other things," he answered cryptically.

Daryl was helping to unpack her groceries and she found she kept eying his hands. He had big hands. He had big hands that moved with purpose and grace. If he noticed the way Beth looked him over he didn't seem uncomfortable or put off by it. Then again, Beth supposed, he wouldn't be if he was a prostitute, as Michonne said he may be.

"That's it, Sutton," he said. "You're all squared away."

"Thanks for helping out."

"No problem."

Beth offered her hand, which he took. His palm was slightly very slightly calloused. Nothing that was unpleasant.

"I'm Bethany Sutton."

"Bethany. Pretty name for a beautiful young woman."

He released her hand and started for the door. She had an impulse to invite him to stay for lunch as a thank you for helping her out. She didn't expect to see either Michonne or Rick for the rest of the day, and she wasn't keen on being alone.

"Would you like some lunch?"

He stopped with the door open and turned to her. "I have plans, sorry. Rain check?"

"Sure," she said, hoped she didn't look as disappointed as she felt.

"I'll see you around, Bethany Sutton," he said, and closed the door.

Beth caught scent of the musty air conditioner and felt a pang of embarrassment. She hoped he hadn't left because of that, or the state _she_ was in. After all, her clothes didn't exactly smell fresh.

_Why do you care what he thinks?_ Beth said to herself while trying to ignore the disappointment she felt that he'd turned down her lunch invitation. _He's basically, probably, a whore anyway_.

Beth decided to put Daryl Dixon out of her mind and concentrate on laundering her new clothes.

* * *

_**Though she had no way to**_ know it for sure, Daryl Dixon was indeed a whore. More specifically he was the lover to a select few wealthy women. One of those women was coming over and he had to get ready.

Daryl took a long shower, first using cool water to cool down from a long morning of painting he'd done for his 'day' job, and then warm water to clean the sweat and grime from his skin. Once he was clean he emerged from the shower and perused the clothes that hung up in the bedroom he'd converted to a walk-in closet.

Because it was Sunday his lover for the day, Ophelia, would want to go with a religious theme. He pulled out a cassock and Roman collar, and made sure that he had her favorite black bikini briefs ready before he began to moisturize, trim any stray hairs from his body, and styled his hair.

After he was dressed he set out the wine that she would lick off his cock for a mock communion. The doorbell rang as he was finishing spreading red rose petals over the bed. Daryl frowned and checked the clock. Ophelia was punctual, always preferring to arrive precisely on time or a minute or two late, but she was never early.

He pulled open the door to Bethany Sutton. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. She allowed her mouth to open and close and Daryl found himself smiling down at her. She looked so young, so innocent. He'd enjoyed their casual talk as he'd helped her put away her purchases. He liked her.

That's why he considered avoiding her, if he could. She had an air of purity and he was as corrupt as a man could be.

"I'm sorry, Father!" she said. "I had no idea you were a priest!"

Before Daryl could respond the stuffy hall was filled with derisive laughter.

"Oh, my! She thinks you're a priest! Isn't that just precious?" said a woman who spoke with a mild German accent.

Ophelia had arrived. Daryl knew her to have a jealous streak a mile wide and he could see some of that jealousy in her bottle green eyes. Beth took an instinctive step away from the woman who was clad completely in black. She had long blond hair that hung in a silky sheet to her waist. There were also lines around her eyes and mouth that the makeup couldn't quite conceal. Her face, indeed her body, was a collection of sharp, unfriendly angles.

"What can I do for you, Bethany?" Daryl asked kindly. He could see she'd turned a brilliant shade of pink under Ophelia's cruel scrutiny.

"Oh, nothing. It's okay. Bye."

He watched her all but run into her apartment and slam the door behind her. Ophelia put her hands on Daryl's chest and pushed him inside before kicking the door shut with her stiletto-clad foot.

"You could have been friendlier," he admonished.

"You want to fuck that cute child. I can see it. You want to corrupt her. You want to make her as dirty as you are."

Daryl gripped her roughly by the face. "You want dirty, bitch?"

"Oh, yes," she sighed, her eyes brightening with lust. "Forgive me, Father. I have sinned."

"Then it's time you made penance," he said, and shoved her onto her knees before him. Her hands reached up and began to undo the many fastenings of his cassock.

* * *

**A/N**: My move has been delayed. This means I have more time to write on this fic and then get it published but boy is life hectic right now. I'm ready to pull my hair out. Wish me luck. Also, to help clarify, I envision season one Daryl in stylish clothes for this fic, but you guys see him as you will. Norman is delicious no matter what season of the show he's been in :) Happy reading! Feedback is always appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

"_**I think you're right about Daryl **_being a whore," Beth said.

She was lonely and grateful that Michonne and Rick had accepted her invitation to dinner. She'd never forget the shock or confusion she'd felt upon seeing Daryl dressed as a priest. Then that trashy bitch with the mean eyes cruel laugh had come and Beth realized the truth: He was wearing a costume.

"Oh?" asked Michonne.

"I invited him to lunch but he said he had plans. I went back over to invite him to dinner another night and that's when he opened the door dressed like a priest."

Rick started laughing from the living room where he was installing a new window air conditioner. Michonne was grinning as well.

"That's too much," she said.

"Oh, and you should have _seen _his client," Beth added, and began to describe her. "I don't know why but I think of Cruella de Vil when she comes to mind. I'll bet he's still with her."

With a thoughtful expression, Michonne watched Beth slicing cucumbers for a salad.

"You were really disappointed when he turned down your invitation, huh?"

Beth tried to shrug it off but she wasn't fooling Michonne. It didn't make sense to her why she'd been bothered that Daryl had turned her down. He was friendly, he was good-looking, but he wasn't her type. He was too old for her anyway, and he slept with women for profit. She knew, as she felt Michonne's knowing gaze linger on her, that she wasn't fooling the older woman. Hell, she couldn't even fool herself that she was interested in him, regardless of how she tried to rationalize why she shouldn't be. Thankfully Michonne didn't press the issue.

"How does someone have sex with another person for money?" Beth wondered aloud.

Michonne considered it and took a drink of the white wine she'd brought over for dinner. "I guess they learn how to shut certain parts of themselves off," Michonne said. "Or it could be that they have a different view of sex than most people do. Or," she added, her eyes meeting Rick's, "maybe they've learned to just shut their feelings down completely, so that everything they do becomes an act that has no real feeling behind it."

Rick looked away, seemingly stung by Michonne's words, but Beth caught the exchange between them. For the first time she wondered if there was more to Rick and Michonne's relationship than work.

They ate dinner in somewhat tense silence. Beth spent the time wanting to ask them what was going on between them but she held her tongue. After dinner, Rick helped her clear away the dishes and they left when the sun was beginning its descent, turning the sky brilliant hues of red and gold.

Beth slipped her phone into her pocket and decided to walk the halls of the building. She used to go for walks after dinner with her parents, sometimes with Maggie, and she missed stretching her legs. Her eyes went to the door of the unit across from hers and she wondered if he was still with her. After that, she wondered why she gave a damn.

Beth explored the building, finding a laundry room on the first floor at the end of the hall. She wondered if perhaps not all units had a washer and dryer as hers did. She wondered if Rick or Michonne would bite her head off for going outside and decided they probably would. Instead she headed upstairs, finding that the third floor was exactly like the first and second, with one exception-there was a door that led to the roof.

Curious, she went up the weakly lit staircase and emerged onto a roof that had been finished in a bare courtyard and set up with a couple of small tables and plastic chairs that had seen much better days. Beth wouldn't have trusted a single chair not to collapse had she sat down. She walked to the side of the building and looked out onto the town that stretched out before her.

The stonework had absorbed heat during the day and now released it. Beth felt a light sheen of sweat form as she leaned against the wall of the courtyard. She thought her father would have liked this town. It was bigger than Senoia but a lot more thought had gone into planning. The town itself looked like it had been decorated for tourism. Antebellum architecture was popular, as were cobblestone streets and street signs carved from wood. There seemed to be a great deal of wrought iron gates and fences, and brickwork.

The door to the courtyard opened and she thought maybe Michonne had come up to check on her. Instead it was Daryl Dixon. His priests outfit was gone, replaced by a pair of gray sweat shorts and a simple white tank top. She tried to tell herself he didn't look good, that he didn't have really nice legs, but it was a waste of time. He did look good and his legs were strong and sexy.

"Hey, Sutton," he said.

"Call me Bethany, please, Father Dixon."

He smiled at that, which managed to put her at ease and mildly arouse her at the same time.

"I like to watch the sun set from here," he said. "There's a lake due north. You can see it right about now because it looks like a puddle of molten gold. Look."

He pointed straight ahead and Beth's eye easily caught what did indeed look like a big puddle of gold that shimmered in the dying rays of the sunlight. The street lights had all come on, glowing with soft white light. Soon it would be completely dark. Since they were in town Beth thought it unlikely it would be easy to see the stars. She was right. Only the brightest managed to show through the canopy of artificial light that covered the town.

"How far away is it?" Beth asked, regarding the lake, after a long break of comfortable silence between them.

"About fifteen miles out. You can't see all of it from here, though. It's called Glory Lake. It's big, makes me think of the ocean in some ways. You should see it."

"Maybe I will."

Beth and Daryl shared a few moments of comfortable silence. She tried to be discreet while she watched him gazing out at the small town he called home by choice, and that she called home because her choices had been taken from her.

"May I ask a personal question? I understand if you say no," Beth queried.

"Do I get to ask a question in return?"

"Sure. That's how people get to know each other, right?"

Daryl nodded and leaned on his left elbow to face her. "Right. Ask away."

"Why were you dressed like a priest?"

Daryl knew she would be curious about that. He considered making up a lie because he wanted, for reasons he had yet to fathom, Bethany Sutton to like him. He decided to be honest. He didn't know if their association would go anywhere, be it friendship or more, and he didn't want to start out on a foundation of lies.

"I'm a male courtesan. A cavalier servente, if you will. Ophelia likes a religious theme on Sundays."

"A courtesan," Beth said. She didn't think she'd ever heard that term.

"I'm a long-term, paid lover," he elaborated.

"Oh, so you're a…a…"

"Whore," he supplied, though without anger in his voice.

"Whore seems like a strong word," Beth said, feeling embarrassed. This made Daryl laugh. She was trying to be courteous when most people would pass judgment. He appreciated that and it made him like her even more.

"I don't just sleep with however many women I can in a day. I don't pick them up off the street. I have three clients that I service long-term," he explained. "I also work for Parrish Interiors painting rooms and moving furniture as a sort of 'day job.' I'm a licensed masseur and give massages for a living."

"You're a jack of all trades?"

He nodded. "Master of none."

"I would have to disagree on that last one, lover. You are a master at sex."

Ophelia had come onto the courtyard and she was dressed in some kind of ugly getup that looked like her skinny body was wrapped in strips of gauze, making Beth think of a mummy. She was clearly naked underneath.

"New client?" Ophelia asked, looking Beth over with a critical, callous eye. "Honestly, Daryl, she doesn't look as though she could afford you, though I must say, my dear, he is worth every penny."

Beth took offense at the woman's attitude. Normally Beth avoided confrontations, but this woman had managed to get under her skin and rile her up after only a few words. Beth would have been impressed with the woman's ability to be obnoxious enough to royally piss her off so quickly had she not been so angry.

Rather than respond harshly, Beth simply smiled sweetly and said, in a sugary voice, "He said he'd fuck me for free. I guess _young_ pussy that can get wet without a bottle of lube is a turn on."

Daryl's mouth had begun twitching and Beth was sure he was going to smile, if not outright laugh. Ophelia was outraged and shouted, "Bitch!"

She let out a loud screech and suddenly lunged at Beth. Her claw-like nails slashed down the right side of Beth's face and neck, drawing long, thin lines of blood.

"What the-" Beth said, unprepared for the attack.

Ophelia was stronger than she looked. She shoved Beth down and grabbed hold of her ponytail, trying, it seemed, to rip it from Beth's head, all the while screeching like an enraged barn owl.

"Ophelia!" Daryl shouted.

"You stupid girl! You stupid, stupid girl!"

Daryl worked to force Ophelia to release Beth's hair. The door crashed open and Beth saw that both Rick and Michonne had emerged onto the rooftop courtyard, searching for her. Daryl hauled Ophelia away while Beth tried to catch her breath.

"Truth hurts, don't it?" Beth shot back, feeling the scratches burn and tears sting at her eyes. She wanted to strike back so badly but Daryl had finally managed to subdue her. She decided to let it go.

"What the hell is going on here?" Michonne demanded.

"This is none of your concern, you black bitch!" Ophelia shouted.

"That's enough, Ophelia!" Daryl shouted.

She pulled away from him. "How dare you dictate to me? Have you forgotten I own you?"

Beth honestly thought for a moment that Daryl was going to strike her. He didn't. He stared Ophelia in the eye and crowded her, his blue eyes stormy and threatening. She began to back away from him, caving, cowering, realizing she'd gone too far.

"Nobody owns me, especially you. Do you understand? Nobody owns me. Say it."

"Nobody owns you."

"And?"

"Especially me," she added meekly.

"Get your ass downstairs. Not another word."

Ophelia obediently left, slipping past Rick and Michonne with her head down. He looked at Beth, who now stood with Michonne.

"You okay, Bethany?"

She nodded. "I'm fine."

"I'm sorry for what happened. I'm sorry for what she said to you, Miss," he added, looking at Michonne.

"Michonne Kelley. This is my partner, Rick Grimes."

Daryl nodded at Rick and then left. When he was gone, Rick began looking over Beth's wounds.

"Come on. I'll clean these scratches."

Beth took out her phone when the alarm sounded. She pressed a button and a second later Rick's phone began to ring. He answered it.

"Just checking in," she said, before hanging up and walking away.

Her life, she decided, had gone down the toilet and she didn't think she'd ever get back to something normal.

* * *

_**Beth sat in Rick and Michonne's**_ apartment while he got a first aid kit out.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

"After dinner I went around to explore the building and I found the roof courtyard and was up there when Daryl came up. We were talking but Ophelia interrupted and got rude. I said something back and then she scratched at me, started screaming, and attacked me. Daryl was trying to pull her off and then you guys came up."

"Her name is Ophelia?" Michonne said.

Beth shrugged and then hissed when Rick began to swab rubbing alcohol over the scratches to disinfect them. "That's what Daryl calls her."

"These don't look too bad," Rick said. "They'll scab over and be gone in a week's time."

"I can't believe her. She's a nutjob," Beth said, tenderly touching at the scratches. "I may not get the job at the Flower Street Café because of this."

"Wear a scarf and put your hair down. They'll hardly be noticeable," Michonne said, as she sat down at the computer. "I'm going to run a sweep on Ophelia, see what her story is."

Beth nodded. "I hope I don't have any more issues with her."

"Try to avoid her. If she attacks again we'll be there," said Rick.

"How did you know when to come tonight?"

"We monitor your vitals. If you're in distress we receive text alerts and an alarm sounds. We not only know where you are, we know if you're distressed."

Beth swallowed. "Um…what if I meet someone, though? What if I'm…intimate…with them. Will that read as distress?"

Rick and Michonne chuckled. They could understand her concern. The last thing Beth would want is them busting in on her while she's in bed with someone.

"If you're going to be intimate with someone text us the number 632. We'll know not to come running to your rescue."

Not for the first time, Beth realized just how messed up her situation was. She couldn't have a normal life until Negan was put away. She was going to have to live being monitored, checking in and sending texts before she can have sex. There was no privacy in her life. It was depressing and made her angrier than even Ophelia's attack.

"I'm going to bed. I'm going to walk the application down to the diner first thing in the morning," Beth said. She was telling Rick, not asking permission. She'd be damned if she would live her life unable to even make a simple trip half a block away without asking permission like she was a ten-year-old. He simply nodded and, feeling better, Beth headed to her apartment.

She'd just opened her door when the door to 2A opened and Ophelia exited looking red-eyed and angry. She stared at Beth with the utmost contempt but didn't speak. Daryl had a stony look on his face as he watched her go. That look softened when his eyes met Beth's. He gave her a small smile that she returned.

"Good night, Sutton," he said, once again using her alias last name.

"Good night, Father Dixon," she answered. They were both smiling when they finally closed the doors to their apartments.

Beth locked her door, leaned against it, and then broke into laughter.

Damn it to hell if she had developed a crush on the man in the apartment across the hall. She climbed under the covers feeling warm and sexy. As Beth lay in the relative darkness of her apartment, she allowed her hands to wander, one into her underwear, the other under her tee-shirt to rub and pinch softly at her nipples. She pretended it was Daryl's hands that touched her, and brought her much needed release. Even though she forgot to text 632 to Rick and Michonne, neither one came knocking on her door.

* * *

_**Beth was up early the next**_ morning, awaking at five a.m. to turn on the local news while her coffee brewed. She'd forgotten that it was Memorial Day until the anchor mentioned it. She would have had the day off since her old boss, Gayle Miller, was a Veteran and would have closed the pharmacy for the holiday. She would have spent it at home with her father and Maggie, had her life not been interrupted by this business with Negan and Martinez. They would have had a barbecue in the back yard that night with friends from town and neighboring farms coming over to celebrate.

Such thoughts were on Beth's mind as she filled in the application, careful to use the information she'd learned in the file for her new identity, before she took time to sort through the closet to decide what to wear. She decided on a dark blue denim miniskirt with a fuchsia tank draped over a tighter fitting white tank. She wore white flat sandals and strung some beads over her neck before letting her hair down and adding a scarf to try to cover the scratches on her neck. Beth rarely wore makeup, but she lightly applied some color to her eyes and cheeks before grabbing the employment application and heading out.

It was a warm, humid morning when Beth emerged from the building. She breathed in the fresh air and started a leisurely stroll down the street. As she started to pass the parking lot exit of her building a motorcycle came to a stop to allow her to pass. She knew it was Daryl even before he turned to face her.

"Morning," she said.

"Morning. What has you out so early, Sutton?"

"I'm going to drop off this application. I need a job if I'm going to keep the rent paid," she said.

His eyes wandered over her from her head to her feet. His gaze communicated interest but not criticism and she felt herself warm. The look was a like a physical touch on her skin and her nipples hardened embarrassingly. She crossed her arms but it was too late-he'd seen. When his eyes met hers there was amusement mixed in with something else that she thought may have been desire.

"Good luck. I'm sure you'll get the job."

He continued on, heading the opposite way up the street. She watched him go, wondering what it would be like to hop onto the back of the bike and ride somewhere with him. She had that thought on her mind when she crossed the street at the corner and went up to the doors just as the woman from the day before, Ruby, was passing by inside. Beth held up her application and she unlocked the door to allow her in.

"Come in, Doll," Ruby said kindly. "Sit down at a table, breakfast is on me. We don't open until seven on Sundays and holidays."

Beth ordered simple bacon, eggs, and toast and had orange juice to drink while Ruby sat across from her, smoking a cigarette without asking if it would be a bother to Beth. She was accustomed to being exposed to smoke, at least a little, since her father had been prone to toking on a corn pipe once in awhile in the evenings ever since she could remember.

"So, tell me a little about yourself. What brings you to Springston?" asked Ruby.

"I'm striking out on my own. I want to become my own woman," Beth said.

Ruby nodded. "I left home at seventeen. I had a handsy stepfather, if you know what I'm saying. Is that your problem?"

Beth shook her head no, even while she felt pity for Ruby. "No, nothing like that. I just want to be on my own."

"Good for you. A lot of kids your age are afraid to leave home nowadays. Can't blame 'em with the economy what it is. It's hard to make it. Have you worked before? I don't see the work history filled in on the application."

"No, ma'am. This would be my first job," Beth said. She'd seen nothing of a work history in her file. She prayed to God that whatever genius had made her a poor, high school dropout with low ambition, hadn't forgotten to put any fake jobs Bethany Sutton may have associated with her equally fake past into the file so she wasn't left with egg on her face if Ruby checked her out.

"I detect an accent that isn't from Georgia," Beth noted.

"I was born and raised in the Bronx," Ruby explained. "I never lost the accent completely. As to this being your first job, well, you couldn't have picked a better place to work. I own this little joint and I'm a kind boss."

"Ha!" came from the kitchen.

"Shut up and get to work, Dale!" Ruby hollered back.

An older man with a kind face was peering through the window between the grill and the counter with a big smile on his face. He winked at Ruby before nodding at Beth and disappearing back to his domain.

"He has a crush on me," Ruby whispered.

"Do you have one on him?" Beth inquired leaning forward and speaking in a conspiratorial voice. She was answered with a coy wink from Ruby and they both giggled like schoolgirls.

Beth was hired on the spot and then given a short tour of the café behind the scenes. Ruby explained the job and promised that she would start Beth off light, keeping her behind the counter so she could learn the register. It wasn't easy pretending not to understand how to work a cash register but she pulled it off and earned praise from Ruby on being a quick learner. She was also introduced to the waitresses when they came in.

Bianca Salas was a middle-aged Latina, the same woman who'd served Beth and Michonne on their visit the day before. She was kind and liked to laugh and talk about her children and her recently deceased husband. Both subjects made her eyes mist over with a mix of sadness and affection. Two of her three kids were away at college and her third child was a high school junior.

Then there was Kylie Henry, a pretty black girl in her early twenties who was going to school at night to earn her degree in business. Kylie was friendly but not overly so, and Ruby told Beth that Kylie took a bit longer to warm up to someone before opening up about herself.

Dale Horvath worked in the kitchen, along with his friend George Platt. Dale was easygoing while George didn't so much as look at Beth for more than a second before going back to work. Beth was told that this is just who George was and that it was also the reason he wasn't allowed to work out front. This comment drew laughter from Dale and a small smile from George.

Business was slow starting off but it picked up around ten a.m. From there time flew by. Ruby was able to help wait tables while Beth took over the counter. It was nearly two in the afternoon when she excused herself to go to the bathroom to make her check-in.

"How do you like your new job?" Michonne asked.

"It's hectic and I talk to a lot of people. I love it," Beth said with genuine enthusiasm.

"Good," Michonne said, sounding pleased. "We'll see you this evening. Rick and I thought we'd take you out for dinner to celebrate."

"Sounds fun. See you later!"

She hung up the phone and stepped out of the bathroom. She was just about to approach the counter. Daryl was coming in and she wanted to say hello. Her eyes, however, were drawn to a man standing at the counter, and the floor seemed to disappear under her feet and she was in free fall.

The man at the counter was Negan.

* * *

**A/N**: Yes, a cliffie. Don't hate :p I've gotta keep you coming back for more, right?


	5. Chapter 5

_**Beth felt she was going to faint.**_ She literally felt as though she'd tipped over into an abyss and she was in freefall. Acting purely on thought, she tore her eyes away from Negan and turned, seeming to move in slow motion, to stumble back into the bathroom.

Once inside the bathroom Beth's knees gave way. She expected to hit the floor but a pair of strong arms encircled her and tilted her back. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them she expected to see Negan had gotten hold of her. Instead she found herself looking up at Daryl.

"Bethany?" he said, tapping her face softly. "Bethany, can you hear me?"

She nodded, feeling shaky and weak. Daryl lifted Beth to her feet, turned the cold water on the faucet on, and then wet a paper towel. The cool water helped to focus her a bit. She stared at him, feeling like her knees had turned to jelly.

"Bethany," Daryl said softly, his face full of concern. "What happened? Who is that man?"

She couldn't answer Daryl's question and he didn't pressure her to. Instead he remained with her, keeping his arms around her while she trembled in his arms and thought how certain death stood only outside the door. She, and anyone in Negan's way, was dead if he realized she was so close.

"Bethany, are you okay?" Daryl asked, stroking her hair and trying to soothe her.

"She suffers from low blood sugar."

Michonne. She'd entered the bathroom and was now turning Beth to face her.

"Excuse you!"

All three of them turned their eyes to a woman who'd entered the bathroom and now looked at Daryl in outrage.

"This is the _ladies_ room."

"I'm nothing if not a lady," Daryl said, using an effeminate lisp and putting his hands sassily on his hips. The woman frowned in confusion before going into one of the stalls, eying Daryl with unease. He turned back to Beth and Michonne, who were now smiling at him.

"I've got her," Michonne said to Daryl.

He nodded and tucked a lock of hair behind Beth's ear. "I'll see you around, Sutton."

He left then, and the woman from the stall poked her head out. "He isn't really gay, is he?"

Beth and Michonne ignored her.

"Is he still there?" Beth asked.

"Who?"

"Negan."

"Negan's _here_?"

Beth nodded weakly.

"Come on," Michonne said, leading Beth from the bathroom. Daryl was still at the counter and now Ruby was approaching Beth with a sheet of paper. She took one look at her and stopped.

"My God, Doll, you're as white as a sheet!"

"She almost fainted," Michonne said. "Low blood sugar."

"Did we work you too hard?" Ruby asked in concern.

"Oh, no. I'll be fine."

"Sit down and eat something," Ruby said.

"I'm taking her home to get her something," said Michonne. "No need to worry, she'll be fine."

Ruby nodded and then handed Beth the paper. It was her work schedule.

"If you need me to cut your hours let me know."

"Did anyone ask about me?" Beth asked, taking the paper from Ruby.

The older woman shook her head. "No, why?"

"If anyone asks about me, don't tell them anything," she said.

Ruby squinted at Beth and then looked Michonne over with more interest. "You in some kind of trouble, Doll?"

"It's Daddy," Beth lied. "I don't really want him to know I'm here."

A look of understanding suddenly crossed Ruby's face. "I see," she said. "Nobody will say anything, Doll. Don't you worry."

Beth passed Daryl as Michonne led her out of the café but she was too distracted to notice his look of curiosity and concern. Rick was outside, keeping watch on the street for any sign of a threat, though he didn't yet know what that threat was. Beth thought perhaps he assumed she'd been located by Negan or one of his men. He wasn't far off the mark.

"Negan's here," Michonne informed him.

Rick's sharp eyes studied the people and the cars on the street. He saw no one he'd been told to look out for. He nodded toward their apartment building. They crossed the street and then headed up to their building with Beth tucked in between them.

* * *

"_**How did he know I was here?" Beth asked.**_

She'd waited until she was in Rick and Michonne's apartment to speak, as though she feared speaking aloud outside would help Negan to zero in on her.

"We don't know that he does," said Michonne. "That was good thinking at the café, when you asked Ruby if anyone had asked about you, and then you palyed on her sympathy by making out you're on the run from an abusive father."

Michonne looked at Rick. "What?" he asked.

"Dixon may be a problem. He saw Beth in distress. He was tending to her when I got to the ladies room. He knew Beth was upset by a man she saw at the counter. He didn't buy the low blood sugar story for a second."

"Beth," said Rick, and she had an idea what was coming. He sat down beside her. "You may want to rethink any kind of friendship with Dixon. You could put him in danger."

Beth swallowed the surge of self-pity and anger that welled up within her. "What am I supposed to tell him? He's gonna want to know why I won't talk to him anymore."

"Tell him you're hiding from a bad man. It's unfortunate but a lot of young women are on the run from stalkers," said Rick. "Tell him you can't make any new friends, you're afraid of putting him in danger. It'll be the truth."

"I guess this means I can't go back to work," she said.

Both Michonne and Rick nodded.

"It was blind luck that he didn't see you today," said Rick. "What if you'd been behind the counter when he came in? He could have shot you right there."

Beth knew they were right but she hated it. Even unintentionally Negan had managed to destroy the new life she was building before the roots could even take hold. It took everything in her not to scream and pull at her hair in sheer frustration. With Rick and Michonne watching, she called Ruby and told her she would have to quit after only one day on the job.

"Your Pa sounds like a really bad man. I hope you find peace from him someday, Doll," Ruby said. "You can have your job back anytime you're ready to come back."

"Thanks, Ruby. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."

"Oh, Honey! No need to apologize. I get why you wouldn't want to talk about running from a bad man. Believe me, I know firsthand what you're going through."

The idea that Ruby had lived on the run from a man-without protection from the government-made Beth feel close to the older woman. She really liked Ruby and she wished she could keep her work schedule at the café.

"If anybody comes asking for you I'll make sure that the staff knows to pretend like they don't know you exist."

"Thanks Ruby."

"You take care, Doll."

Another hour went by before Rick gave Beth the clear to return to her apartment. During that time Michonne dyed Beth's hair the same shade of strawberry blond that was in her driver's license photo. She'd also cut Beth's hair so that it was short. It was cute, and stylish, but it wasn't Beth Greene. It was Bethany Sutton. It was just another piece of her old self that had been put to rest in a grave of lies and fear that had become her life.

The previously pretty day had long since clouded over, matching her sour mood. She went back to her apartment and collapsed on her bed. It didn't take long for the tears to come.

* * *

"_**We could have used some warning**_ that the Threat was going to be in the area," Rick snapped.

Shane's face filled the window in the center of Rick's computer screen. "I'm FBI, not God, Rick," Shane snapped back.

"Send that in a memo to the rest of the agency," Michonne remarked mildly.

"I just found out today that he likes to spend Memorial Day in your area. I've got a man on his tail now. He'll let me know as soon as the Threat returns to Senoia."

"You're positive this is just bad luck? It's just coincidence that he came to this town and walked into the same area that Hummingbird was in?" asked Rick.

"I hate coincidences but as far as I know, yes," Shane answered. "Look, we're trying to determine the depth of the Threat's reach. We can't trust police, the FBI, the Department of Justice, anybody. That's why I'm using The Operatives. You're private and I know you can be trusted. Hell, I served in Afghanistan with Michonne so I know the girl is in good hands. Keep Hummingbird inside. Stay close to her. As soon as the Threat's back back, I'll call."

Rick disconnected and sat back to look at Michonne. "If she'd been behind that counter…"

"I know. We let her loose too soon, but we had no way to know he'd come almost two hundred miles out from Senoia to holiday," she said. She was fully aware of how badly it could have ended for Beth had Negan spotted her. Feeling the need to act, Michonne grabbed the keys to their second vehicle. It was a white Buick LeSabre with some special modifications, including bullet proofing. It was a lot less conspicuous than the big black Escalade they'd arrived in.

"Where are you going?"

"I can't just sit on my ass. I'm going to canvass the area, see what I can see. Call Viper. You know we need her."

Rick flinched. "Do you really think so?"

"What's wrong? Don't wanna talk to your ex-wife? The woman you dumped me for while I was serving my country in the military?"

"I knew you'd throw that up in my face. We've been over this. Long distance relationships don't work," said Rick.

"You cheated on me with her," Michonne said, trying to keep her voice mild.

"I did not. I broke things off with you first," Rick insisted, though he didn't think Michonne believed him.

"Whatever. Ancient history."

"Apparently it isn't since you keep bringing it up," Rick said.

"Just call her."

Michonne slammed the door behind her harder than she'd intended. When she was gone, Rick heaved a sigh and pulled out his phone. He was the Ringleader. The Operatives were his people. He didn't have to call anyone in that he didn't deem necessary but Michonne was right. Viper was a handy resource to have on hand. She answered on the third ring.

"Yeah?"

"You're needed, Lori. I'll text the info. Leave Carl with my mother."

"Understood. How long on the assignment?"

"Unknown."

She didn't say anything but he could imagine she wasn't pleased. She didn't like to be away from Carl for too long. She was a good mother. She'd been a good wife, too. He always felt some guilt at how things had ended. He'd used her to comfort himself, to keep from being lonely, while the woman he loved was away serving long stints in the military. Lori had ended the marriage because she'd felt she deserved better than being Rick's pacifier while he longed for Michonne. She'd been right.

"Understood," she finally answered.

The line went dead and Rick settled in to do the job of monitoring Beth and waiting.

* * *

_**Daryl Dixon came home from work**_, glad he had the rest of the day to himself. He would spend the rest of the week doing his three jobs. Painting during the days, and alternating between keeping massage appointments and fucking one of his three clients.

For today, however, he could relax and enjoy his shower, which he did. With that done he popped open a cold beer and reclined on the couch to enjoy the silence and solitude of his home.

Of course his thoughts went to the mysterious young woman who'd moved in across the hall from him. Bethany Sutton. Who was she? Could she be trouble? The idea that she was, indeed, trouble, made her interesting. Daryl had had his fill of interesting women. He wanted dull. He wanted ordinary and uncomplicated. That's exactly what Bethany had seemed to be at first. Now it looked like there was more to her than met the eye.

The day that had started off so clear had clouded over. He considered Bethany and the man and woman who so obviously shadowed her as he watched the clouds roll in the sky outside his living room window. Who were they? Why did they have a tendency to show up whenever Bethany was in distress? It obviously wasn't coincidental that they'd shown up on the roof yesterday during Beth's altercation with Ophelia, and then again today.

He'd stopped into the Flower St. Café for a late lunch. He'd watched Bethany emerge from the restroom and meet his eyes with a look of pleased surprise. Then she'd taken one look at the bruiser standing at the counter and turned completely white. The guy had cop written all over him and Daryl wondered if Bethany was on the run from the law.

There was a moment that Daryl had been sure Beth would faint. Somehow she'd managed to make it into the ladies room and he'd followed, worried she wouldn't keep to her feet for much longer. He'd been right. He'd barely caught her before she hit the floor.

Then Michonne had shown up, as though she'd been alerted that Bethany was in distress. Lo and behold Rick had been outside when Daryl left the ladies room. Something was going on with the three of them. Something was off about Bethany Sutton. He recalled their talk on the rooftop the previous evening. She owed him the answer to a question and he was going to ask it. He just hoped she'd be as honest with him as he'd been with her.

* * *

_**Dreams of riding horses on the**_ farm with Maggie were interrupted by a knock on her door. Beth awoke from what she called a stress nap. She'd taken plenty of them when her stepmother, Annette, the only mother she'd ever really known, had passed away. It was escapism and it wasn't good for her, even if it was a normal response to loss.

Beth expected Rick or Michonne to be at the door but no one was there when she cautiously peered through the peep.

"Hello?" she asked, and listened.

With no answer, Beth left the chain on the door and cautiously opened it. There was no one there. She took the chain off and opened the door fully. The hallway was empty but there was a note taped to her door. It surprised her that the paper was real parchment, something expensive. She carefully unstuck it from the door and then opened it. Inside was script that had been beautifully written with a fountain pen.

_Don't miss the sunset._

"Daryl," she sighed.

Beth recalled how she fully expected to hit the bathroom floor at the café. At the last second his strong arms had caught her, encircled her, and saved her from a fall. She'd been too distressed at the time to appreciate the feel of another person holding her, seeking only to offer comfort and kindness and expecting nothing in return. She could still feel his touch, and it was as comforting now as it had been, then. That was what she needed. Not sex, or, she thought, not just sex. She needed comforting.

Though it was probably not a good idea to leave the safety of her apartment Beth decided she would meet with Daryl on the roof at sunset. It would be good to see him again, even if it meant she would have to end their budding friendship. It was with a lighter heart that she cooked dinner and ate, but her heart again grew heavy while she freshened up, and then left her apartment to meet Daryl on the rooftop courtyard for what would probably be the last time.

* * *

**A/N**: To my wonderful readers who want to know how Beth will deal with Daryl's profession, please just keep reading. That'll all be dealt with in later chapters, I promise :)

**...**

**Here's a sneak peek at chapter six:**

_Daryl was already on the rooftop_ courtyard when Beth arrived at eight o'clock. He leaned against the same wall she'd stood with him watching the sunset the previous day. He looked good in a pair of distressed jeans and a form-fitting tee-shirt. Then again, Beth thought he'd look good in sackcloth and ashes.

"Sutton," he said, by way of greeting.

"Father Dixon," she replied, making him chuckle. "Am I going to be viciously attacked by a bony mummy tonight?"

"Nah, she's back in her tomb."

"Good."

They looked out at the lake, which was shimmering like liquid gold in the distance, and enjoyed watching the day darken and the sun sink behind the horizon. They were silent, just enjoying being close to one another, for over half an hour. Beth didn't realize it until Daryl broke the silence that she'd inched nearer to him, longing for closeness.

"We were asking one another questions yesterday," he said. "I didn't get to ask mine."

"That's right, you didn't."

"I was completely honest with you about who I am."

Beth nodded. "You were."

"So my question is why were you so afraid of that man in the café?"


	6. Chapter 6

_**Daryl was already on the rooftop **_courtyard, waiting for Beth to arrive. His thoughts were easy to wander to the past, to his childhood, on days when he was prepared for a confrontation, even if it wasn't going to be an angry one. He had to confront Beth about the man in the café. He had to ask what was going on.

His father, Donnie, would have mocked him if he could see his youngest son now. Donnie had possessed a keen eye. It was what had made him a great tracker. While it had been a gift in Daryl's hands it had been a curse in his father's. Donnie Dixon could read people as easily as he could read a trail, especially his youngest boy, and he'd used that talent to torment Daryl at every opportunity.

_Scared of the wittle gwirl?_ Donnie would have chided in baby speak. _Scared she'll see wight through you and turn to run? If she's got any sense she'd take off far from your worthless whore ass. I can't believe any woman alive would pay good money to be pecked at by your little baby dick-_

"Stop!" Daryl whispered aloud. His voice was rife with vehemence.

Even though he'd been dead almost twenty-six years Donnie Dixon still haunted Daryl's mind. He was the voice of self-doubt that had very nearly held Daryl down in abject poverty and misery. Every time something good came along his father's voice would mutter discouragement at the back of his mind. He just wanted that voice to be silenced. He doubted it ever would.

Now the sun was low in the western horizon, to Daryl's left, and it had splashed crimson and gold across the sky as though God was a clumsy artist, streaking paint from his brush as he slashed it across the canvass that covered the earth. Even when clumsy God had managed to mistakenly create a masterpiece. Daryl though it would probably surprise Beth to know that Daryl not only believed in a divine creator, he loved Him and thought about him often.

When the door opened behind him Daryl was relieved. He'd worried that Beth wouldn't show. He made it a point to lean casually against the same wall they'd stood at the previous day and ignored the scratchy surface of the stone, or the heat that billowed up from it in visible waves. He looked good, Beth thought, in a pair of distressed jeans and a form-fitting tee-shirt. Then again, Beth thought, Daryl Dixon would look in sackcloth and ashes.

"Sutton," he said, by way of greeting.

"Father Dixon," she replied, making him chuckle. "Am I going to be viciously attacked by a bony mummy tonight?"

"Nah, she's back in her tomb."

"Good."

They looked out at the lake. It shimmered in the distance, at least the narrow section of it that was visible from their vantage point, looking like a pool of liquid gold. One thing that Daryl liked about Beth was her ability to enjoy silence without feeling the need to fill it with meaningless chatter. They watched the sky darken in that peaceful silence, while on the streets below men, women, and children ran about with frantic energy, living their lives like bees that never stopped working. Beth didn't realize it until Daryl broke the silence that she'd inched nearer to him, longing for closeness.

"We were asking one another questions yesterday," he said. "I didn't get to ask mine."

"That's right, you didn't."

"I was completely honest with you about who I am."

Beth nodded. "You were."

"Why were you so afraid of that man in the café?"

Beth considered how to answer him with as much honesty as possible. She looked into his eyes and refused to break contact. "I can't tell you everything but I'll tell you as much as I'm able to."

He nodded, deciding that for now, he'd be satisfied with that. "Okay."

"I'm running from him. If he finds me he'll kill me."

Daryl regarded her in silence. This was hard to hear. How could anyone want to hurt a girl like Bethany Sutton? He could tell that she was genuinely kind and caring. He understood people. He recognized evil when he saw it in someone's eyes. God knew he'd grown up staring it in the face from birth to age fourteen. He didn't see evil in Bethany Sutton and no one was a good enough actor to fool Daryl Dixon. Not when it came to having a cruel, callous soul.

Had he looked into the eyes of the man who'd so badly frightened Bethany, he was sure he would have seen the evil she spoke of. The kind of evil he'd grown up with, putting scars on his back that he'd spent thousands of dollars to have repaired and faded. They would never be gone completely. They didn't just mar his skin, they marred his soul.

"The man and woman, Michonne and Rick-"

Beth shook her head, cutting him off. "That's two questions and I can't answer them. I'm sorry. Daryl, I came here tonight to tell you I can't talk to you anymore. It's dangerous to be around me and I don't want to get you hurt."

"I'm a big boy. I can make up my own mind on that."

Again, Beth shook her head and felt her chest tighten with sadness. "No. I won't be responsible for ruining someone's life. Or worse, making someone lose it. I like you, Daryl Dixon. I like you probably more than I should considering I don't really know you. If we'd met under different circumstances I think we could have been great friends. As it is, we can't be anything at all."

She was glad he didn't try to stop her when she walked away. She stopped at the rooftop exit and looked back at him. He gazed after her with the most intense expression she'd ever seen in anyone's eyes. It felt as though he'd reached into her soul to try to feel her out. She hurried through the door, down the stairs, and back to her unit where she locked the door and laid down on her bed to sleep once again.

**.**

"_**Do you remember when we first met?" asked Rick.**_

Michonne sat on the couch with her computer in her lap. She'd spotted Negan at Glory Lake and had taken quite a few photographs of him with a group of some fifteen other people. Their behavior hadn't been at all suspicious. They'd merely seemed like people out on the lake to enjoy the holiday. Still she'd been curious about them and had gotten some great shots of each person in his group.

"Yeah," she said distractedly. "I was on my first case, prosecuting a pedophile. You were working the security detail for the perp."

"You kept ignoring my attempts to get your attention," he remembered.

"Like I am now because, like then, I have more important things to worry about than your attempts to get in my pants."

"Michonne-"

Rick took one of her hands in his. She finally looked up at him. "I was never unfaithful to you. I know I fucked up. I'm sorry. Can't you forgive me?"

"You broke my heart, Rick. You broke Lori's, too. You made a mess of everything."

"I know I did. I've been trying to make up for it ever since."

Michonne pulled her hand from his. "Why are you still trying?"

"Because I love you," he answered, without hesitation. "Do you feel nothing for me?"

Michonne gazed at her laptop without really concentrating on the photographs there. She didn't confirm she loved him but she didn't deny it either. That was progress, Rick supposed.

A loud knock on the door had both of them jumping and reaching for their guns. Rick relaxed, recognizing the familiar knock, and went to the door. He opened it on Lori's serene face.

"Viper reporting for duty," she said dryly.

Rick stepped aside and she came in. She left a very large, very heavy case in the hall for Rick to get, which he did.

"Samurai," she said, using Michonne's code name. She slipped her hands into her pockets. "Where is the client?"

"From the looks of her vitals she's asleep," Michonne said.

Rick always hated it when the three of them were in the room alone, or even in the same town. The lack of anger between the women always unnerved him. Michonne didn't blame Lori for Rick's decision to break things off because, despite what she said to the contrary, she'd understood why Rick had done what he did. He'd begged her not to leave him for the military, that doing so would tear them apart, but she'd chosen to go into the career she wanted. Doing so had caused her to lose the man she'd loved.

For her part, Lori had understood that Rick had never stopped loving Michonne, and that he never would, and she'd not blamed Michonne for Rick's mistakes.

"Is my unit set up?" Lori asked.

Michonne nodded and pointed to a set of keys on the coffee table. "I've got the place ready for you. Video feed to the client's room is all set up. You're directly across the street from her apartment."

"2A is a studio, isn't it? I won't have to scope two rooms plus a bathroom?"

"Right," Michonne confirmed.

"I'll introduce you to the client tomorrow," Rick said.

It was just past midnight and Lori took that to be her cue to leave. She looked at Rick. "I called Oleander. She provided the poison darts in the case. I'll give them to you when we reach my unit. She wants in, just so you know."

"Andrea is a poisons expert. We don't have a use for her on this case," said Rick.

"You know Andrea. She'll find something to do."

Their voices faded and Michonne's attention went back to the photos she'd captured of Negan at the lake. She didn't recognize the people he was with. Chances were they were family and friends, nothing more. Still, she decided to send the pictures to Shane.

She also decided to run them by a few sources she had outside of the FBI. She figured it couldn't hurt.

"Michonne, I'm about to turn in. The Threat is still in Springston," Shane said tiredly, having answered on the fourth ring.

"I sent you an email. You'll need to read it in the morning. I have a request."

"What?"

"Hummingbird needs to talk to Oldtimer."

He was silent for so long she began to wonder if he hadn't fallen asleep on the line. "Why?"

"Why do you think? We have untraceable cell phones. One call, Shane. It would do her a world of good to talk to him."

"One call. I'll text details."

He hung up and Michonne smiled at her little victory.

**.**

_**Beth wasn't particularly happy to meet**_ another member of the team and she made no effort to smile and shake hands. She merely cast a single glance at the tall, thin woman who'd come in to meet her and then put her head back down and closed her eyes. Lori left with Michonne, then, and Beth returned to her solitude. Now she sat on the couch of her apartment with her hair tangled and her clothes rumpled from having been slept in. Because they didn't have a confirmation that Negan had left the area Beth wasn't allowed outside.

"Agent Walsh is arranging a phone call to your dad," Michonne told her, when she returned later without Lori. "He'll text me the details as soon as possible."

"That's great. Thanks, Michonne," Beth answered, though without the enthusiasm Michonne expected.

She put a hand on Beth's shoulder. "We're going to keep you safe."

"I want to ask what for," Beth said quietly.

"I don't understand."

"What are you keeping me safe for? I can testify against Negan but then what? I'll probably have to stay in this damned witness protection program anyway. You may never catch all the people involved in his ring and me and my family may never be safe again."

"Beth, I know it looks bad now but you'll be reunited with your family. You won't always be in danger and on the run."

She nodded but Michonne could see that Beth was in a dark place. She was so young and she was so lonely, and the truth was she and Rick couldn't be everything Beth needed and keep her safe at the same time.

Even news that Negan was gone and they'd received the clear to let Beth roam free, escorted of course, didn't manage to lift her spirits. She spent days in bed, watching TV, eating, neglecting to shower or change clothes. Beth kept up a steady internal dialog that things wouldn't always be this way but she couldn't rise up out of the depression. She had no job. She had no friends. She literally felt like she had nothing.

Thoughts of Beth and her mental and emotional wellbeing were on Michonne's mind when Friday evening rolled around. It was cloudy and Michonne expected it would storm that night. She was bringing in groceries when she looked at the door to apartment 2A. For all of his questionable choices in life, she'd seen the tenderness in the way Dixon had handled Beth in the restroom at the Flower Street Café. He could be just the distraction Beth needed to keep her spirits up. Perhaps it hadn't been a good idea to have Beth write him off.

"Rick, I want to talk to Dixon," Michonne said, setting the groceries down.

"About what?"

"Beth needs a friend. He wants to be that friend."

"I can see what you're getting at already and I don't know how good an idea it is. The man is a prostitute, Michonne. Beth's an impressionable girl who could get her heart broken. You think she's depressed now, imagine how bad it'll be when she realizes he's not going to change his whole way of life for her."

He had a point but something in her gut told her that Dixon would be good for Beth, and maybe they weren't giving her enough credit. "I can talk to him, make sure he keeps his hands to himself."

Rick snorted, somewhat derisively. "You want a whore to keep his hands to himself? Really?"

"Yes, really," Michonne snapped, annoyed now. "Rick, she's gonna waste away in that room, wallowing in depression and sadness. She needs a friend. She's an extrovert and this solitude is bad for her. She can't take it."

Though it was against his better judgment he had to agree that Beth was the friendly, outgoing type, and solitude was like slow acting poison to her. She needed someone to talk to. She needed someone in her life who could pay attention to her without constantly looking over her shoulder to make sure a killer wasn't drawing down on her.

"Talk to him," he finally relented. "Make sure he knows the risks. Don't give too much away."

In a move that surprised both Michonne and Rick, she leaned in and kissed him square on his lips.

"Thanks."

He licked his lips, wishing he could come back for more. "You're welcome."

**.**

_**Daryl answered the door dressed in**_ green surgical scrubs with a face mask hanging below his chin and wearing a pair of latex exam gloves. He opened the door just as Beth was making a rare appearance to take out the garbage. She took in his costume, heaved a sigh, and continued down the hall. Daryl looked after her before turning his attention to Michonne.

"May I help you?"

"I need to talk to you about her," Michonne said quietly.

"Is she okay?" he whispered, seeing that Beth looked a mess when she came back up the hall and disappeared into her room with a final curious glance at him.

"She could be better," Michonne said, when Beth closed her door. "I won't take up a lot of your time."

He stepped back and allowed Michonne entrance. She saw that Daryl had filled his home with expensive furniture and, she figured, the wine rack on the opposite wall was filled with impressive vintages of expensive wines.

"Would you like a drink?"

"No, thank you. I'll get right to it. Beth has told you she's running from someone."

Daryl nodded and leaned against the kitchen counter. "She says he'll kill her if he finds her."

Michonne agreed. "I can't give you a lot of details but I can say that Bethany is a good woman. Her life has been disrupted through no fault of her own. She's had to give up her family and her home. She needs a friend but I mistakenly encouraged her not to associate with you for your safety. Ever since then she's been deeply depressed. Today was the first I've seen her out of her apartment since Tuesday."

Daryl considered what Michonne had said but he wasn't sure what she expected of him. "What are you asking of me?"

"If you're willing to risk it I'm asking you to be her friend."

"You may not ask that if you knew more about me," he said.

"You would be surprised what I know about you, Mr. Dixon."

He cocked a brow in curiosity. "Oh?"

"You grew up in an abusive home. Your mother died in a house fire. You ran away from home at fourteen. Your brother, Merle Dixon, is in prison for murdering your father a year after you left. You earn approximately two hundred seventy-five thousand dollars annually from your combined income of painting, legitimate massage jobs, your earnings from your mistresses, as well as being very good at the stock market. You've never been in trouble with the law, you've never drawn the attention of the IRS because you pay taxes on every single penny you earn. From what I've seen of you, Mr. Dixon, you seem to be a decent man, regardless of some of your practices. I'm not judging you, just saying."

He regarded Michonne for a long time, his face admirably blank, giving nothing away of what he'd just heard regarding his private life from a complete stranger.

"You live in this building with my charge. It's my job to know as much as I can about you," Michonne elaborated. Beth needs a friend. If you're willing to be there for her, help draw her out of her shell, we'll include you in our protection detail."

"I can take care of myself but I think you'll need to convince Beth to talk to me."

"That won't be a problem. Daryl, listen, keep your hands to yourself. Not because I object on a moral basis, I don't, but for her sake. She could quite easily fall in love with you and I can tell you right now, Beth wouldn't be able to share you with your uh...clients. The last thing she needs on top of everything is a broken heart."

A knock sounded at the door. Though Daryl didn't make Michonne any promises he had every intention of keeping his friendship with Beth platonic.

His client, Rachelle, stood at the door in a red wig and dressed in a torn outfit with fake blood and injuries, with bruises marked on her face. The makeup job was so genuine she must have drawn looks on her way in.

"I'll leave you to play doctor," Michonne said, nodding at the woman on her way out.

"Moonlighting?" Rachelle asked Daryl, coming into his place and closing the door behind Michonne.

"No, she's a friend."

She looked skeptical but didn't question it. "Dr. Dixon, I've been in an accident."

He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around him while he peeled her 'blood' stained top off and walked her toward the massage table that he'd dressed up as a gurney. He lay her down and very slowly began peeling her pants and panties off.

"Let me take a look at what we've got here," he said.

When she was naked, began kissing her belly, tasting the sweetness of the fake blood that wasn't entirely unpleasant. He licked the length of her moist folds, eliciting a moan from her.

"I'm going to have to operate," he said, and then slid his fingers inside.

**.**

_**It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter…**_

That was the mantra Beth repeated as she listened to thunder roll outside. It didn't matter to her that, right at that moment, Daryl was fucking some stranger. She knew it wasn't Michonne because she'd heard her leave while she kept her ear pressed to the door of her unit. It was someone else but it wasn't Ophelia.

Despite what she tried to tell herself it did matter. She felt jealousy, sharp and hot, deep in her chest and she wanted to go over to his door and demand he kick out whoever he had in there and stop fucking women for a living.

Of course that was unfair. They didn't know each other very well and he owed her nothing. Still, she hated the idea of Daryl putting his hands on women and knowing she would never be one of those women. She buried herself in her pillow and ignored Rick's invitation to dinner. Instead, she listened to the rain on the windowsill and went back to sleep.

**.**

**A/N:** Hmmm...only three reviews after the last chapter. Was it that bad? Hopefully this chapter will be more enjoyable.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Beth was roused from sleep by**_ the notification alert from her phone.

_get dressed_

Beth looked at the small screen through eyes blurry with sleep. The text had come from Michonne.

_shower first_

_you need it_

She was frowning when she texted back.

_why_

A second later Michonne responded.

_the threat's been gone_

_for a long time we've got the_

_all clear and its time you_

_got out of the house for awhile_

Beth knew she should have been happier since finding out Tuesday morning that Negan had left the area but the truth was she was afraid. What if they were wrong? What if someone else was in town who worked with Negan and could recognize her?

When Beth didn't respond via text she got a physical visit from Michonne, who had a very stern look on her face. "Beth, you can't just lock yourself away. You're young and outgoing and you need to get out and live. You need some fresh air, some sunshine, and some activity."

Beth supposed she was right. If she didn't get outside she would wind up sleeping all day, every day, and that was no good for her.

"Rick and I were wrong about Dixon. If he wants to be friends don't push him away."

"Is that why you were at his place? To talk to him about us continuing to be friends?"

Michonne nodded. "He knows the risk. We've got him under our protection too. I say give a friendship with him a shot. Keep it platonic, for your sake. We both know he's not boyfriend material."

There was more truth to that than Beth wanted to face. Daryl had clients that paid him for sex and she couldn't see him falling desperately in love with her and leaving them for a monogamous relationship with a woman half his age. He was a whore, after all, and women were something to be used to pad his wallet, or to satisfy his lusts, but probably never to love. She could be friendly with him, hang out with him, but she wouldn't allow herself to think he could love her.

"Where are we going?"

Michonne handed her the keys to the Buick. "_You_ going out for a ride, alone. It's the white Buick in the parking lot by the back door. Learn the town. Window shop. Sing along to some music on the radio. Lori will shadow you so you won't be completely on your own."

Beth nodded and started to go back inside, but stopped and called out to Michonne. "What does she do, exactly, on your team?"

"She's a sniper."

"Don't they kill people?"

"If they have to. Don't worry, she won't have to. Not today. Now get cleaned up. Maybe take a walk at Meadow Park. They have a beautiful trail."

The idea of taking a walk, of being out in the open, breathing in fresh air and stretching her legs lifted Beth's spirits. She had something to look forward to and that mattered. She enjoyed a hot shower and then dressed in a pair of cutoffs and her new Nike's. She threw on a green tee-shirt and then checked her reflection in the mirror. She was pale. It would do her good to get out and get some sun.

**.**

_**When Beth stepped outside she was **_a little wary of anyone who may be nearby. She overcame her reluctance to leave the safety of the apartment building when she spotted Lori in the black SUV. The woman smiled encouragingly at her and, after a little wave of acknowledgement, Beth hurried to the Buick and climbed in. It was a really nice car. Nicer than she was accustomed to.

It was surprising how easy it was to forget Lori tailed her as she drove the streets of Springston. The entire town looked like it belonged on a postcard. It was an upscale neighborhood, something that would have strained her father's wallet to call home. Not that he'd want to. Despite its rustic charm it was still too urban for him. He'd preferred to stay on the farm rather than spend much time in town. She parked and got out to start walking the streets, looking into shop windows and occasionally going inside to look through the wares, and eventually all worry about an assassin popping up out of nowhere went forgotten.

After an hour or so of looking and not buying, with her resolve to not pull out the Visa card Rick had given her for emergencies beginning to fail, Beth headed over to Meadow Park. It was a beautiful place with perfectly manicured grass and old trees. Kids yelled and played on the swing sets and merry-go-rounds while their parents, mostly mothers, stood in groups to talk.

The trail entrance was covered in shade and Beth was, for a moment, hesitant to go in until she saw Lori hanging back some distance, her sharp eyes looking around for any sign of a threat. Confident she was safe, Beth started onto the trail, passing people out for a walk or a run. After some stretches to loosen up muscles that had stiffened from too much inactivity, Beth broke into a jog, hoping Lori could keep up, and before she knew it she was lost in the run, concentrating on her breathing and enjoying the feel of her muscles beginning to burn as she pounded the hard-packed dirt path.

There was a rather large pond with pretty white ducks swimming. To her surprise Daryl lounged beside the water, tossing breadcrumbs to the ducks and watching them eat. She wondered if this was some kind of setup orchestrated by Michonne, then decided against it. Daryl would have no way to know she was going to find her way here, considering the different forks in the trail that led in different directions. It was just a coincidence.

_Don't do it. Don't go over._

She told herself to avoid him even as she jogged his way. He smiled as she approached, looking genuinely happy to see her.

"Sutton. Good to see you out."

"Good to see you too, Dr. Dixon," she said, bringing up his latest costume. "Mind some company?"

"Have a seat."

He passed her the bag of breadcrumbs and she threw some to the ducks.

"So, what's next? Officer Dixon, General Dixon, Gladiator Dixonus?" she said, grinning.

He shrugged. "I've never been a Gladiator before. That would be interesting. Is that a fantasy of yours? To be a Roman lady fucked hard by a dirty, sweaty…"

His voice trailed off when he saw the way Beth's pupils had dilated and she looked as though she would be blushing and bright red had her jog not already flushed her cheeks to a ruddy shine. He was flirting. He'd started to slip into seduction mode and that wasn't a good idea.

"Sorry," he said, keenly aware that she was interested in hearing him complete his question. She was even more interested in experiencing it.

"May I ask a personal question?"

"If I get to ask one," he said.

"Okay."

"Shoot."

"How much do you cost? I mean…how much do you charge…Um…"

He was laughing now at her embarrassment. "I usually go with a six month agreement," he explained. "I'm paid twenty thousand dollars up front. Each client is entitled to me once a week and they can spend the night if they like. Unless they misbehave, like Ophelia did, then I send them home. I do whatever they ask of me except same-sex encounters in a threesome."

"Oh. What about just a massage, then?" Beth said, since she didn't have twenty thousand dollars to buy him.

"Depends on the situation. If you're at my home I charge between two hundred to three hundred fifty dollars per hour. A basic, full body massage is two hundred. A full treatment is three fifty. I'll let you in on a secret," Daryl said, looking around as though he was genuinely worried someone would overhear. Despite herself, Beth waited with baited breath for him to continue. "I'll give you a free massage sometime. The works. You can't tell anyone, though, or everybody will expect it."

She laughed and felt her body begin to relax from the run. She hadn't jogged in months and had been so sedentary recently she thought she might actually need a massage.

"I've done a lot of exercising today. I just may actually need one."

"I'll work you into my schedule."

"Have you had lunch yet?" she asked.

"Not yet."

"Care to join me? I'm cooking."

"Let's do it," he said, and climbed to his feet. He offered her a hand up, which she accepted and, not for the first time, wondered what it would be like to feel those hands on her body. She hoped he worked her into his schedule soon.

**.**

_**Lunch became a routine for them.**_ He would stop in around eleven-thirty to eat before heading back to his job as a painter. Normally he would be covered in speckles of, and smelled like, paint and other chemicals. He was often sweaty and dusty but it didn't bother Beth. She would pour him a glass of iced tea before he would relax on her couch with a sandwich or salad, or a bowl of soup that she'd made. They'd eat and she'd listen to him talk about the latest project he was working on for Parrish Interiors. They didn't discuss his other work.

It was a good routine, one that made Beth happy, even though she knew his evenings, and most likely nights, would be spent in the arms of one of his clients. She thought that as time went on she could give up any hope of ever being more than friends with Daryl but that was not the case.

Her attraction to him was persistent and it was constantly at war with her desire to see him stop sleeping with his mistresses in order to start something deeper with her. These things went unspoken but she knew they were on his mind as much as they were on hers. It was evident in the quiet pauses between words, in lingering looks, or the brush of their fingers when she passed him lunch, or took his dish after he'd eaten.

"Daryl?" she asked one day, as he was leaving to go back to work. She knew he'd have a client that evening. She knew that when she lay down that night to try to sleep he'd be across the hall, in his bed, with some woman who meant nothing to him because she'd paid him to be there.

"Yeah?"

"Don't be a gladiator with them."

She felt her face heat with embarrassment that she would make such a request, but she'd come to think of the gladiator thing as theirs, and she didn't want to happen to see him open his door one evening dressed in that costume.

He nodded once, a look of something suspiciously like guilt in his eyes, and left.

He felt like shit when he closed the door to his apartment. He understood her request because he, too, had thought of the gladiator costume, of wearing it for her and even buying her a Roman style dress to wear for an evening at his place. In fact, he'd even come close to buying the costumes, and felt as though it was something that was theirs, that they could enjoy. Then he remembered he was determined to keep his hands to himself. It was better for her, and it would be better for him, too, to keep their friendship platonic.

Even with his determination to keep his friendship with Bethany completely separate from his professional life, Daryl found that being with Ophelia, Rachelle, and Nora was getting harder to do. He had an appointment with Nora that evening in fact. He'd decided to take the rest of the day off work from his painting job and get some rest before she arrived. Nora was young and athletic and liked it rough. He'd often favored her as a client for her adventurousness. Now he was having difficulty drumming up enthusiasm for her, or the others.

He'd never needed it before but Daryl made sure he had Viagra on hand at all times, just in case he needed a boost. He ended up having to dose before he put on one of the power suits that Nora favored him in and opened the door after her familiar knock. She, too, was dressed in business formal, favoring a skirt just a little too short to be professional or office appropriate, and carried a briefcase that held her favorite handcuffs and whip.

Nora was a tall, beautiful black woman with very dark skin. She kept her hair short to where she was almost bald, and she favored red lipstick. Her full, pouty lips met his in a searing kiss as soon as the door was shut. Sensing something off, she stepped back.

"Is something wrong, Daryl?" she asked in her thick Creole accent.

"No, I'm fine. Just tired."

She frowned. "That is too bad. I wanted you to work me hard tonight."

Her hand unerringly found his cock as she stared into his blue eyes, and she began to stroke. She smiled when he responded appropriately, hardening at her touch. He decided to throw himself into his work and try to forget Bethany Sutton. He'd try to forget that he knew she was starting to feel for him, as he was starting to feel for her, and that those feelings that he shouldn't be having for a platonic friend were making it harder to do his job. That's all Nora and the others were. They were work. They were a job that he had to do to earn his pay.

He kissed Nora with a kind of brutal passion that left her breathless and moaning.

"I'm gonna fuck you," he said gruffly, hiking up her skirt and backing her toward his bedroom. "I'm gonna fuck you so goddamn hard."

She sank to the floor in the middle of the living room and pulled him down with her. "Fuck me here…now…"

"You're gonna come for me," Daryl ground out, saying things he'd never let himself say to Bethany if he was with her.

"Yes…yes…"

He yanked off her panties before rolling on a condom. He wrapped her legs around him and closed his eyes. It was easier to pretend, as he began pounding into her, that she was Bethany, if he had his eyes closed.

**.**

_**Beth awoke later than usual on**_ Saturday morning to clear skies and gusty winds that blew in the drapes of her living room. She thought of what she'd seen of Daryl's place and how nicely it was decorated. While she didn't have his budget, she thought it wouldn't kill her to do something with her place. The walls were bare. There was nothing of herself in the entire apartment. She was thinking of what to do when her phone rang with an unknown phone number coming up on the screen.

What if it's Negan?

Hesitantly she answered the phone and said, "Hello?"

"Bethie?"

"Daddy!"

At once Beth began to weep. Her tears were those of joy and sadness combined. What she wouldn't do to see her father, to hold him, to just stand in his presence and feel his arms around her again.

"Bethie," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "It's so good to hear your voice, Honey."

"How are you, Daddy? You're safe? You're being treated well?"

"I'm safe. Life isn't bad here. Wish I could say where I am but it's not allowed. It's not the same without you."

"I miss you so much. I miss Maggie."

"Carol says I've got five minutes and then she has to destroy this phone. You won't be able to call me back on it. How are you holding up? Are your guards nice to you?"

"They're great. I had a job but I had to quit because Negan was spotted in the area," she said, leaving off the part where he damn near saw her. "I've made a friend. His name is Daryl. He lives across the hall. He's a painter by trade."

She omitted that he was also a whore by trade. She didn't think her father would care for that too much.

"My girls. You both manage to fall in love regardless of circumstances."

"I'm not in love, Daddy. Daryl is just a friend."

"Oh, Bethie. You forget who you're talking to. I heard the way you said that man's name. Maggie's the same way with Glenn."

"Where is Maggie? I'd like to talk to her."

"She's out at the shooting range with Glenn. She wasn't cleared for this conversation. I don't know why. She says to send you her love and she can't wait to see you again."

"Tell her I love her, too."

They spoke for a few moments, catching up on what they'd been doing since they were separated. It sounded as though her father and sister were in good hands and leading lives that were fuller than hers since they'd been taken to a horse ranch owned by Carol. All too soon, however, the call had to come to an end and her father had to leave. Carol came onto the line for a moment to tell Beth that they would try to arrange a call between her and her sister if it was at all possible.

Beth hung up the line and laid back on the couch. She'd spoken with her father. She'd gotten to hear his voice. That alone was worth more than anything money could buy. Feeling truly happy for the first time since having to leave her father and sister, even happier than her lunches with Daryl made her, Beth got up to make breakfast. She'd just put water on to boil for her oats when Daryl knocked on the door.

"I've got an idea," he said, leaning in the doorway and completely unaware of how sexy he was and how badly she wanted to pull him into her apartment, drag him to her bed, and have her way with him. She reached up and ran her hand down his chest, enjoying the feel of his skin against hers. She was sure he'd leaned into her touch, as though as hungry for her as she was for him.

She cleared her throat and pulled her hand back.

"What's that?"

"Let's create something beautiful together."

"Daryl, I really like you but I'm not ready for kids just yet."

He laughed easily at that and kissed her on the forehead. She wanted so badly to tilt her head and capture his lips with hers but she didn't.

"I'm thinking a garden for the courtyard."

"Won't we need permission from the owner for something like that?"

"I haven't seen the owner since I moved in here three years ago. Fuck 'em. If they don't like what we do they can take it down themselves. Let's do this for us. We're the only ones who ever go up there anyway."

"Okay," she said, caught up in his enthusiasm. "I'm game."

Daryl had a truck that he sometimes used for work. It was a big, late model, dark gray Ford F250 that she climbed into beside him. They drove all the way across town to get the supplies they'd need for the flowerbeds. Daryl explained the layout he wanted.

"I want to line the edges of the courtyard with flowerbeds, and the corners can have square beds tucked into them," he said.

"What about putting up a couple to tables with the big umbrellas like they have at cafés with outdoor seating?" she suggested. "That way we could sit up there in the shade in the daytime if we want. We could also barbecue up there."

He nodded, liking the idea. "We can even get a grill to put up there. We'll have a cookout once the garden is in bloom to celebrate."

It took most of the morning to gather supplies. Daryl got oak wood and some weatherproof to keep the planks safe from rain. It was hard work, and took five trips, but they managed to get all the materials from the truck to the rooftop by lunch.

"We'll be feeling this tomorrow," Beth said, trying to roll an ache out of her shoulders.

"I do this every day so I'm used to it," Daryl told her. They sat on the rooftop eating salads and gulping bottles of water to replenish what they'd sweated out.

They set to work again. Beth learned how to cut the wood sections and piece them together properly. They had four long flowerbeds completed and weatherproofed by the time the sun began to set. They enjoyed their usual ritual of watching it go down and spotting the lake in the distance.

"I want to see that lake up close."

"Let's go sometime," he said. "We can rid up there on my bike."

She nodded and rubbed at her shoulder, which was hurting from all the activity.

"Sore?" he said.

"Yeah, a little. My legs hurt, too."

"Come here."

He pulled her in front of him and began to knead the muscles in her shoulders and the back of her neck. He worked down her arms, as well, and he did it with such expertise that Beth began to fall asleep on her feet. He had her sit down and he worked the muscles of her calves with such finesse she felt the pain ease right out of them. He really was a very skilled masseur. There came a point, though, where his touch was less soothing and more arousing. She felt her heart begin to thud a little faster and tried to calm down.

"You need some heat," he said. His voice had a certain gruff quality to it, as though he, too, was fighting not to give in to desire as he stroked the muscles of her legs. "Take a hot shower tonight before you go to bed. Also take some aspirin and drink a few cups of water. You'll feel better for it."

"Thanks," she said, taking his hand after he finished massaging her calves and he helped her up.

Beth found herself pressed against him, her face very close to his. He wasn't a lot taller than she was. She was looking up at him, her entire body longing to feel his hands roam where they would. He placed one hand on her lower back and pressed his fingers into the soft skin there, pulling her closer to him.

"Sutton…"

"Call me Beth," she said, longing to hear her name on his lips.

"Beth," he said, and she fully leaned against him, aroused at hearing her real name in his voice and from his lips. Their lips were now only a few inches apart. It took every ounce of Daryl's willpower to say, "I'll see you tomorrow."

He pulled gently away from her, leaving her feeling oddly cool in the humid heat of the evening. She waited until he had time to get into his place before she grabbed her keys and went home. She leaned against the door once it was shut and closed her eyes.

_Good job, Beth. You've gone and let yourself start to fall for a man who'll never be yours_.

**.**

**A/N**: Yep...that darned attraction is complicating things for Daryl, now. It looks like feelings aren't his strong suit but he's gonna have to work on that, isn't he? I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter! :D


	8. Chapter 8

_**It was during the quiet moments**_ of her morning routine that Beth found she was able to do her best thinking. Thoughts seemed to come easier while she went through the familiar motions of showering, brushing her teeth, and putting coffee on to brew, that she was able to come up with the most sensible solutions to the problems she faced in life. That was not so on Sunday morning when she awoke to slightly sore muscles, and her heart involved in a tug-of-war with her mind over what she should or shouldn't feel concerning Daryl Dixon.

He was simply stretched too thin. They weren't going to work on the flowerbeds that afternoon because he had massage appointments at the Lakeshore Country Club, out at Glory Lake. Then at four p.m. he would have to spend his evening, as he put it, 'servicing' Ophelia. The idea of Daryl fucking that horrid woman turned Beth's stomach. It was also like a twist to her heart that he could still be with her after…

_After what?_ Beth wondered. After they'd become friends? After they'd almost kissed on the rooftop? She figured she shouldn't delude herself into thinking it meant anything to him. He was a whore who pleased women for a living. She was just another female. He'd displayed sexual interest in her, so what? She imagined he could display sexual interest in Ruby, she thought bitterly, if the money was right.

_Don't fool yourself into thinking your special. He gets paid to make women believe they mean something to him when they don't. He's an actor, and a damn good one, _her brain said. _You're just one more woman in a very long list of women_.

_He feels something for you and you know it_, her heart argued.

_He'll never stop adding women to that list_, her brain advised.

_You can make him stop. All you have to do is love him, be what he needs, and he'll put those other women aside_, her heart insisted.

Beth miserably watched some show on TV that she couldn't have followed the plot to if her life depended on it. Her mind told her that many a women had wasted their lives thinking they could change a man who didn't want to, while hear heart told her that love could accomplish anything.

A knock at the door surprised Beth. Despite her dark thoughts and her anger with him for planning to fuck Ophelia that night, she still hoped it was Daryl, coming to tell her he was taking a day - and a night - off from his duties. Instead she spotted Lori Grimes through the peep. She opened the door and Lori held up a brown paper bag dotted with grease stains.

"Cherry Danish from the Bean and Brew Bakery," she said cheerfully. "It's the good stuff, too, loaded with fat and sugar."

"Sounds good. Come in. I'll pour you a cup of coffee. How do you like yours?"

"Like Rick likes his women: Black and strong."

Beth giggled and poured a plain cup of coffee for Lori, while she added cream to hers. She didn't add sugar since the Danish would supply plenty of that to sweeten the bitter brew.

"They're as big as manhole covers," Beth noticed.

"I know," Lori said, adding a wiggle of her brows.

Though it was nice to have the pastries and the company, Beth had a feeling there was a purpose to Lori's visit and she was curious what it was. Thankfully, Lori didn't take long to get to the point.

"We haven't really had a chance to talk. You were in poor spirits when I first got here, understandably so."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I was kind of rude," Beth said.

"No, don't worry about it. You already know I'm divorced from Rick. You don't know why, I take it?"

Beth shook her head. "Something to do with Michonne, I'd guess. The way they are with each other. I get the feeling something's going on."

"Oh, Honey, you don't know the half of it. Something's been going on with them for almost twenty years."

"Really?" Beth said, intrigued.

"Rick and Michonne were a couple for about three years before I met him. She went off to join the Army. The distance was too much for Rick so he broke up with Michonne to date me. I wound up pregnant so Rick and I married. That was a mistake. Never marry just because of a pregnancy. Anyway, it was good for awhile. Or so I told myself."

Beth was both curious and confused. She was curious what Lori would reveal next and confused as to why she was talking about her past with Rick.

"What do you mean you 'told' yourself it was good?"

"I began to realize that I was Rick's wife but he was Michonne's husband, not mine. We spent ten years of marriage waiting on two different things. I was waiting on Rick to get over Michonne and he was waiting on me to hate him enough to let him go so he could be with her after she got out of the Army."

"That's terrible," Beth said, feeling sorry for Lori.

"It would be easy to put all the blame on Rick, and for a long time I did. Michonne too. Over time I began to realize that all three of us were at fault in that mess, not just him. Michonne's part in it all was that she chose a career over Rick. Rick's part in it was using me to warm his bed until he could find his way back to the woman he really loved; Michonne. My part in it all was in thinking I could change Rick from the man he was into the man I wanted him to be, that I could win his heart when he'd long since given it to someone else."

Beth felt her heart ache and tears sting at her eyes. Part of her, the logical part in her mind, had already told her that a woman couldn't change a man who didn't want to change. She finally understood where Lori was going with this talk. It was hard to hear but she made herself listen.

"I saw you on the roof with Dixon yesterday," Lori said kindly. She put a hand on Beth's and squeezed. It was a comforting touch that Beth appreciated. "I just want to tell you, Beth: don't give your heart to a man who can't, or won't, put you first. You may think you can share his body with those other women as long as you have his heart, but there will come a point when you realize that if you _truly_ had his heart, he wouldn't be able to have those other women in his bed."

Beth let the tears fall. She was helpless to stop them because she knew Lori was right.

"I know you're right. I keep telling myself similar things but my damn heart wants to be with him."

"The brain v. the heart. I fought that war for years. In the end my brain won but not before my heart was forever scarred."

"Do you hate Rick?"

"Oh, God, no. I love him. I'm just not _in_ love with him anymore. He's a good man, despite his faults. He's a good father and he's become a good friend to me. It's rare that people can go through what Rick and I went through and come out of it as friends, real friends, but we have. I'll tell you what: finish that pastry and in an hour or so we'll go down to Meadow Park together to run it off."

"It looks like rain."

"As hot as it is, we'll be lucky if it does rain."

"Okay."

She walked Lori to the door. "Lori? Thanks."

Lori touched her cheek gently. "Anytime. If you need to talk I'm just across the street, keeping an eye on you with a shotgun."

"What?" Beth said, alarmed.

"Didn't they tell you? I'm a sniper. I check in on you and if someone ever tries to come in and hurt you I'll be there to kill 'em dead."

It would have sounded funny if Beth didn't know Lori was dead serious. She winked and left, and Beth shut the door behind her.

"What a fucking weird life I've got now…"

**.**

_**Daryl massaged five people during his**_ seven hour shift. Some were old veterans who requested him because he was good with their war wounds. A few were golfers who wanted to relax after a morning out on the green. One was a very randy old lady who'd tried to bribe him into sex by offering him a thousand dollars in cash but he'd refused. That wasn't an unusual occurrence in his line of work, from either men or women, but he never agreed. He always kept his work as a masseur on the level and strictly professional.

The moments he spent between working to relax the muscles of the wealthy country club members he spent thinking about Beth. The girl had managed to disrupt his whole life without even meaning to.

For ten years Daryl had managed to lead a life of hard work, most of it honest, that had lifted him out of the abject poverty he'd grown up in with his brother Merle. He planned to retire at forty-five. He was well on track to reaching the nest egg figure he wanted. All he had to do was keep it going another five and a half years. Work and invest. That was all he'd had for the past decade and he'd convinced himself it was enough.

Until her.

He remembered the few so-called girlfriends he'd had over the past ten years. There'd been three. None of them had made him feel for them what Beth did. None of them had made doing his job with his mistresses difficult, as Beth did. He could barely recall the last time he'd fucked for love. In fact, he didn't think he'd ever truly fallen for a woman. He'd not been able to love himself so he'd never tried to love anyone else.

It was almost impossible for him to recall what sex with emotion was like. When was the last time he'd lost control? When was the last time a moan had escaped him that wasn't purely theater? When was the last time he'd made love to someone?

_Well over fifteen years_, Daryl thought.

There had been a young woman, when he was twenty-four years old, that he'd genuinely liked, and had come close to opening his heart to. Then she'd dumped him and he'd sworn he'd never let himself feel the kind of hurt he'd felt when she'd walked away.

That was just before his first experience fucking for profit. He'd thought the idea was genius. He got to enjoy sex with, usually, attractive women, and in exchange he was paid insane amounts of money. He'd learned everything he could about the female anatomy and how to please a woman. He'd learned how to make fantasies come true. He'd become a master at his profession, which was the oldest in the world.

He was good at what he did. It earned him money, it kept him physically satisfied, and he had no emotional hang-ups to worry about. So why was Bethany Sutton on his mind so much? Why was he constantly thinking of her?

Now Daryl was on his way home. First he had to stop at the pharmacy for condoms since he was running low. He was perusing for his usual brand when he saw Bethany in the same aisle, further down, looking over pain killers. Seeing her there, unexpectedly, made his heart jump in his chest. It made him happy. _She_ made him happy.

"Bethany."

She looked up at him. He expected to see her usual bright smile but she looked solemn.

"You okay? You haven't had any trouble from that man, have you?" he asked in concern.

She shook her head. "No, it's not that. I've been thinking about what happened yesterday. I wanted to kiss you."

An awkward silence followed. He'd wanted to kiss her too. He'd wanted to kiss her more than he'd ever wanted to kiss anyone before.

"I'm glad we didn't," she said.

"What?" he asked, taken aback by what an unpleasant surprise her words were.

"I'm glad we didn't kiss. I let myself forget what you are," she said, trying to elaborate.

"_What_ I am?" he said, starting to feel numb, but with an undercurrent of heat that was going to turn into anger.

"You know…you're a…" she looked around, as though she was about to say something vulgar and didn't want to be overheard. In fact, that's exactly what she was going to do. "You're a whore. It's not like it would have meant anything to you. It's not like _I_ would mean anything to you."

"I'm a whore so I can't feel anything?"

"I don't…I guess…Of course you feel, just not for me."

"God, I thought you were different."

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking genuinely confused.

"People find out what I do for a living and they assume I'm a piece of shit robot who doesn't have feelings or needs. I thought you were different. I thought you saw a person instead of just a gigolo."

"I do see you as a person, Daryl! Let's face it, though, I'd just be another notch on your headboard. It's not like you'd give up what you do to be with me, and I think too much of myself to share you with a bunch of women so you can make money off them."

"Well, ain't you a peach?" he questioned angrily. "As though I'd actually want to fuck _you_. You're just a kid. I just wanted to be friends, nothing more."

She looked hurt and surprised now, and Daryl felt a small victory, even though it was petty and cruel.

"That's what I want is friendship," she said.

"Yeah, after you made it clear I'm not good enough for you."

"I didn't say you're not good enough, Daryl," Beth snapped, no longer trying to keep her voice down. "I just said I-"

"Yeah, I heard what you said. You're right. I have no intentions of changing my way of life for somebody I barely know. Get over yourself, Darlin', you're just not that precious."

He walked off, needing to get away from her before tears could sting at his eyes. He'd never misjudged someone so completely in his life. He'd thought Bethany Sutton was different. He'd thought she'd looked past his livelihood to see there was a person with a heart. All she saw was a whore.

As soon as the cashier scanned the condoms Daryl slapped a fifty on the counter and said, "Keep the change."

He hurried out to his bike, started it up, and sped off as quickly as he could. He had to get home and get ready. He had work to do. Work he damn sure wasn't going to have a problem doing tonight.

**.**

_**The sex was angry, just like**_ Ophelia liked it. He'd hiked up her shameful excuse for a slutty nun's habit and kept his cassock on while he rammed into her, forcing her face first into the pillows. She screamed each time he thrust into her. He knew he was hurting her because she was allergic to latex condoms and each thrust must have been agony-which is exactly what she wanted.

"You're hurting me," she sobbed.

So he fucked her harder until she came around him.

"Yes…yes…yes…" she moaned.

Daryl wasn't done. He kept thinking about Bethany and it was hard for him to come. He flipped Ophelia over, threw her legs over his shoulders, and began ramming into her again.

"You're so angry," she huffed, as he continued thrusting. She had a smirk on her face. "Fight with your little lover across the hall?"

"Shut your goddamn mouth, slut," he said, and began pounding even harder. "Fucking bitch…"

"Hit me," she said, leaning up and dragging her nails down his chest almost hard enough to draw blood. "Strike me, you fucking whore."

He did as ordered, striking her across the face, hard enough to knock her back, and then he slapped at her breasts and pinched her nipples with a roughness most women couldn't tolerate. The physical and verbal abuse excited Ophelia. She came again, her juices splashing over his thighs and finally he found release, coming hard into the condom.

He collapsed beside her and discarded the condom. He looked up at the ceiling of his bedroom, where a mirror hung, and he couldn't stand to look at himself. He'd long ago made peace with who he was, and what he did, but tonight, with Bethany's words ringing in his head, he felt self-loathing on a level he hadn't known in years.

"What's the matter?" Ophelia said.

"Nothing. Personal problems."

"You can tell me."

"I'm here to please you, not burden you with my bullshit," he said, and lit up a cigarette. He passed her one and they smoked together.

"Maybe I want to hear. I'm not all that bad, Daryl. I may even be able to help."

"You can't, so drop it."

She shrugged. "Fine. I know it has something to do with that little girl across the hall."

He gripped Ophelia's face hard. Harder than even she liked it. "Don't talk about her to me. Understand?"

She nodded and he released her. Ophelia rubbed at her jaw.

"You've never been mean to me before. I mean, outside of sex, where I like it mean. It hurts my feelings."

_You've got feelings?_ Daryl thought, and he regarded her in the mirror.

"Sorry," he said, but he didn't sound sorry and she knew he wasn't. "Don't mention Bethany again and I'll stay sweet as pie."

She wondered what the girl had done to him but wasn't about to bring it up.

"Are you going to watch the sunset like you normally do?" she asked.

"Yeah, actually, I am," he said. He'd be damned if he changed his routine over Bethany Sutton. He looked at Ophelia. "Don't come up."

**.**

_**Two weeks passed after Beth's argument**_ with Daryl. There were no more lunches. There were no more sunsets. The one time she'd gone up to the roof, the day before, to see if he was there, he wasn't. She was too much of a coward to knock on his door. She'd written a dozen letters of apology but didn't have the courage to tape one to his door. She'd seen him a few times in the hall. Each time he'd pretended she wasn't there.

Now Beth sat in the bathtub with the window open beside her. She looked outside, into the sky above. Clouds had rolled in. They often did but rarely brought rain. Tonight would be different, she was sure of it. The air had cooled and had that special smell that said rain was coming.

Jewel's soulful voice spilled from the speakers of a radio she'd found in the linen closet. She sang of a man who belonged to her. Beth thought of Daryl, as she often did when she was sitting still. He may not have been meant for her but she felt he could have been a good friend. She'd messed that up.

All she'd wanted to do was tell him that she didn't want another almost-kiss to happen. She'd ended up calling him a whore and hurting his feelings. She'd made him feel as though he was less than a man, at least in her eyes, and that wasn't true.

Or was it?

How many times had she thought 'he's just a whore'? Had she judged him? Yes. Had that been fair? No.

Beth could feel the Aleve she'd taken not only ease the pain in her shoulders and arms from the work she'd been doing trying to complete the flowerbeds, but the throbbing headache that had set in from being in the heat too long that day. She climbed from the tub and dried off before putting on a pair of black leggings and a gray tee-shirt and some comfortable sandals. She was going to talk to Daryl today. If he didn't go up to the roof then she decided she was going to knock on his door.

He was there when she came up. He kept his back to her even though he'd heard the door open. He made no effort to look at her when she stopped beside him.

"I just want to watch the sunset," he said. "Not argue."

"I didn't come to fight. I came to apologize."

"I guess I'm supposed to just get over it, right? I'm just a whore after all. My hypothetical feelings don't matter," he said bitterly.

She could feel the pain in his voice. She touched his arm and he started to move away but she gripped his hand.

"I was wrong. I'm just asking for a chance to explain myself."

He held still, refusing to look at her, but not trying to push her away, either.

"I don't think your job completely defines you. I'm not better than you. I know you have feelings, Daryl. I think you probably feel things more deeply than most people. I judged you and I said cruel, hurtful things that I didn't mean to say. Everything came out wrong that day and I'm sorry. You don't have to forgive me but I want you to know I'm really sorry."

He leaned against the edge of the courtyard. "What do you mean everything came out wrong?"

"My head is telling me not to feel anything but friendship for you. My heart is telling me to fall head-over-heels in love with you. I can't fall for, and be with, a man who takes other women to his bed. Not that you want me. You made it clear you don't. You see me as a kid. Here I am, screwing it up again. I'm trying to say I-"

She realized he'd started looking at her. His expression was softer than she thought it would be.

"You hurt me," he said softly.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't know it but that's quite an accomplishment. I haven't cared about someone enough to be hurt by them in a very long time. You're right. You deserve a man who will be yours and only yours. You need someone your own age, too. I just want you to know, Bethany, that you wouldn't have been just another notch on my headboard."

"Please, forgive me someday?"

"I forgive you now," he said.

Beth threw herself into his arms. He caught her and squeezed her tightly against him. After a few moments she stepped back and took his hand.

"Friends again?"

He nodded. "Yeah. We'll have a really good friendship without any sexual tension between us."

"Bethany."

Beth looked away from Daryl when Michonne came onto the courtyard. She had a solemn expression on her face that worried Beth at once.

"What's wrong?"

"It's your father," Michonne said sadly. "He's been shot."

**.**

**A/N**: Hi guys. I've got a lot going on in real life right now. I didn't have time to do as thorough editing job on this chapter as I usually do. Hopefully there aren't too many errors. I'm posting now because I didn't want to leave anyone hanging for too long. I'm not at home at the moment so I won't be able to do regular updates again on either this fic or the Love Club until I get settled. I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N**: Regardless of my personal issues with this site, I don't want to leave readers hanging on my WIPs. I'm going to finish posting Bethany Sutton here, as well as The Horde, before I move on from this site. Thanks for all the support from the lovelies here. It's been appreciated. Also keep an eye out for original fiction on my site. The link to it is on my profile.

I've posted chapters 10 and 11 after this.

**.**

**.**

_**The only thing keeping Beth anchored **_to reality was the feel of Daryl's hands firmly gripping her arms. He pulled her against him. He was like a solid wall of warmth and strength behind her. The way he reached for her, to support her, it was as though they had never said hurtful things to one another.

"Is he alive?" Beth heard herself say, though she wasn't sure how she formed the words. She felt like a spectator in her own mind, seeing and hearing things happen as though she wasn't part of them. She was floating and disconnected.

"He's alive. He's being flown to Ft. Benning for treatment," Michonne said.

"Maggie?"

"She's fine. She's unhurt. Agent Walsh thinks this is a ploy to flush you out."

"I have to see him. I just have to," Beth said, still in that odd, floating feeling.

"Beth, we can't risk it," Michonne began.

That snapped Beth back to herself like a slap across the face. She broke free of Daryl and rushed past Michonne. She made for Rick's apartment and pushed her way in without knocking. She found Rick and Lori sitting on the couch, looking morose.

"You take me to see my father or I swear to God I'll call the Senoia PD and tell Negan where I am. I'll let him finish me off!"

Rick surprised Beth by getting up off the couch and putting his arms around her. He smelled of sandalwood and aftershave, and it reminded her of her father. She began to weep, thinking of him. How anyone could want to harm such a good, honest, kindhearted man was beyond her.

"I have to see Daddy," she wept.

"Of course you will," Rick said. "Call the team. Oleander and Pit-Bull are in the area. We'll need them to ghost us. I need an extra car."

"I've got a truck you can use," Daryl said. "I'm coming with Beth. There ain't no stopping me so don't bother with talk about risk to my life."

Rick nodded. "Your life, your choice. I can't guarantee your safety."

"I'll guarantee it for myself," Daryl answered.

It took an agonizing forty-five minutes before they finally got onto the road. Lori drove the Escalade. Michonne drove the Buick with Beth and Daryl in the back seat. Rick followed up in Daryl's truck.

"He'll make it," Daryl said, his voice thick with with conviction. "I'm sure of it."

Beth leaned against Daryl and he wrapped his arms around her while she wept into his shoulder. She slowly settled down while the sound of his heart beating remained strong and steady beneath her ear. Now she didn't feel quite so alone.

Rick's voice came over the stereo speakers. "We've got news about our people. Teabag and Quicksilver are in stable condition. They're expected to be released in a few days."

"Thank God," Michonne said, sounding relieved. "Oldtimer?"

"Critical," Rick answered, before hanging up.

Beth felt Daryl squeeze her shoulder. The rain that Beth had expected came in hard and steady, forcing them to slow their pace in the interest of safety. With her head throbbing from the stress, Beth allowed the sound of the tires on the wet pavement, the rain on the windows, the steady thump of the windshield wipers, and Daryl's comforting touch to lull her to sleep.

**.**

**.**

_**Beth awoke when the car began**_ to slow to a stop. She sat up and saw that they were being led through a checkpoint. She wiped at her face and willed the trip to be over. She just wanted to see her father and sister. She didn't think that was too much to ask for. It seemed to take forever to get through security. Finally she was out of the car and heading into the hospital.

She almost didn't recognize Maggie. Her sister had also cut her hair and dyed it fire engine red with streaks of blond in it. She'd also curled it and she wore darker clothes than Beth was used to seeing her in. Maggie had always liked skirts and summer dresses. Now she wore blue jeans and a black tank and looked like she'd spent a lot of time in the sun with the dark tint to her skin.

"Beth!" Maggie cried, flinging her arms around her little sister. Both young women hugged one another and wept, mostly from sadness, partly from relief at being reunited at such a terrible time.

When Beth stepped back she realized that Maggie had a bruise on her right cheek that disappeared into her hairline. There were a few superficial cuts on her face and neck. Otherwise she was okay.

"What happened?"

They took a couple of the overstuffed chairs in the hallway, still holding hands, while Maggie began to explain. "We were sitting down to dinner when a man came into the house shooting. Daddy was shot twice…"

She almost broke down at the memory of seeing bullets strike her father. Once in the chest, once in the leg, before he collapsed.

"Glenn and Carol got me to the kitchen and they started shooting back. There was a standoff. I couldn't get to Daddy to help him. He was just lying there on the dining room floor bleeding to death. Finally some people that Carol had called came in and killed the shooter. Agent Walsh said the guy who tried to kill us was FBI. Beth…Daddy's in really bad shape!"

There was nothing left to do but wait. Beth introduced Maggie to Daryl, Rick, Lori, and Michonne. Then a woman named Andrea arrived. Beth watched in surprise when she kissed Lori in a way that left no room to doubt they were much more than mere friends and coworkers. The man Andrea had arrived with was tall, black, and powerfully built. He introduced himself as Theodore Douglas. He took watch at one end of the hall while Rick took the other.

It was almost two-thirty in the morning when a doctor came out to talk to Maggie and Beth.

"Mr. Greene has suffered a myocardial infarction."

"What's that?" asked Beth.

"Heart attack," the doctor explained.

"Why didn't you just say that instead of trying to be all technical? Do we look like doctors to you?" Maggie snapped.

"Maggie," Beth shushed.

"Well? He's trying to be fancy, like we went to medical school too and know what the technical names for stuff are. I don't want to have to ask him to explain everything in English."

The doctor took her bad mood in stride, understanding she was afraid and grieving.

"It was due to blood loss, not actual damage from the gunshot wound," he continued in a calm, even kind tone of voice. "We've transfused him and he's stable. He's critical, but stable."

"Is he going to make it?" Beth asked.

"It's too soon to tell. The more time passes the better his odds of survival," the doctor said frankly. "The next twenty-four hours are critical. This is an army base," he said, looking to Agent Walsh, who'd managed to sneak up without Beth noticing until that moment. She hated how he did that. "We don't usually accommodate families at this particular facility but I think there's an empty room we can give these young ladies to get some rest. The rest of you, I'm afraid, will simply have to wait it out in the corridor."

"That's fine, Doc," Shane said. "I'm sure you'll tell us right away if anything changes."

"Of course. I'll send a nurse once we've got a room ready."

"When can we see him?" asked Maggie.

"As soon as he's tucked into his room. That'll be at least another half an hour."

He nodded to Maggie and Beth and headed out.

"Well, nice to see my duckies are lined up in a row for the Threat to shoot at," Shane said to Rick, nodding in Maggie and Beth's direction.

"Don't give me that, Walsh," Rick snapped. "It's her _father_."

"How were they found?" Andrea said. She was holding Lori's hand and looking thoughtfully at Beth and Maggie. She had no interest in watching Shane and Rick argue.

"If I knew that, this wouldn't have happened," said Shane.

"First Negan comes to town where Beth lives. Then his people manage to find Oldtimer and Raven," said Rick. "His reach is deep."

"All the evidence still points to him not having a clue where Hummingbird is," said Shane. "If he did, y'all would know it."

Michonne and Theodore left to fetch coffee for the group while Rick and Shane talked about the case, using a lot of code that Beth's mind was too tired to follow or figure out, though she had gleaned the fact they were considering moving Maggie out of state. She sipped the coffee, which was almost strong enough to make the cup squirm in her hand, and waited for the nurse to come get her and Maggie for a quick visit to their father.

"I'm going to visit Teabag and Quicksilver," Michonne said.

"Look, I've got a place in-" Theodore began. Shane held up a hand, silencing him.

"Don't tell me. I want you to go dark with Raven. You keep in contact with me over the untraceable lines but don't actually tell me where you take her. It seems that whatever I find out is being leaked. None of my sources can be trusted. I can't find the goddamn mole," he said, deeply frustrated. "I'm pushing to arrest the Threat on the Cooper murder but I'm being stonewalled and it's coming from high up. As soon as we can get her to the stand we will and at least her part in it will be over."

"There's no guarantee she'll be safe after," Rick pointed out.

"No, but I will say this: The Threat's got a network called the Saviors. If you encounter any link to that name let me know through T-Dog."

"Who?" Rick frowned.

"You know, Theo."

Rick shook his head and regarded Shane. "So, Michonne is Shonnie and you call Theodore T-Dog. What do you call me?"

"Nothing, till now. I'm thinking Tinkerbelle."

"You call me Tinkerbelle ever again I'll feet you your own nuts for breakfast."

Shane made a pained face. "Officer Friendly, then."

This earned a tired chuckle from the rest of Rick's team, and a weary smile from Rick himself.

"You're off the radar, Rick. I think the only reason is that I've never spoken of where you took Hummingbird. Stay put since we know your location is secure."

**.**

**.**

_**Beth held her sister's hand while**_ they stood beside Hershel's bed. He was so pale he looked as though he didn't have a drop of blood left in his body. Maggie held Beth close and they stared down at him, praying he pulled through.

"We'll get through this. We're strong," said Maggie.

Beth nodded. "I know. I just don't feel strong."

"Neither do I," Maggie admitted. "I'm stronger with you, though. I just don't want them to separate us again."

They'd only been in the room for ten minutes when a nurse entered. "Beth Greene?"

"Yeah?"

"Hi. I have some forms you need to fill in and some papers for you to sign. It won't take but a minute."

"I'll be back, Sis," Beth said. "Stick close to Daddy."

Beth followed the nurse down the hall. They passed the nurse's station, which was deserted, and a room where Beth spied Michonne sitting at Carol's bed, talking softly to her, even though the older woman was unconscious. They came to another corridor and the nurse turned down that.

"Is it much further?" Beth asked. "I'm not sure I should wander too far away from my friends."

The nurse gave her a kind smile. "It's just in here."

Beth was expecting an office of some kind. Instead she found she was in an empty patient's room. The beds were made but had been put up high to discourage anyone from tying to climb up on them. Beth knew something was wrong and she spun around to face the woman who'd led her away from her sister and her guardians.

That movement was all that spared her from taking a scalpel to her kidney. Rather than slice into her body, the scalpel sliced across her side, causing only a slight but sharp pain. Beth grabbed a metal bedpan from a table and swung it at her attacker's hand. The scalpel hit the wall and then skittered across the floor.

Beth faced the nurse, who advanced on her without at sound. Her silence was unsettling to Beth, who began screaming at the top of her lungs, calling out for help. She barely managed to keep herself out of the woman's grasp as she ran for the door and yanked it open.

"Help! Help me!"

Weight plowed into Beth, knocking her to the floor, and stealing her breath. She wasn't sure where it came from, but the fake nurse produced a syringe and plunged it into Beth's belly. Beth twisted and felt the needle break in her skin, and the syringe rolled, only half emptied, across the floor.

Suddenly Michonne was there. She kicked the would-be killer square in the face, sending her sprawling, unconscious, to the floor.

"Beth!" Michonne said, kneeling beside her to check her over. She had her phone up to her ear and was telling Rick where she and Beth were. She slipped the phone into her pocket before pulling the broken shard of needle from Beth's belly.

"Can you hear me, Beth? Say something, Sweetheart," Michonne urged.

Beth could hear just fine but she couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. All she could do was lie there on the cold hospital floor, her body refusing to move though she commanded it to. She started to panic as she felt her lungs burn for air but she couldn't draw a breath. She felt like she was trapped in her body, as though it was a straitjacket, and she couldn't force it to move.

"She's been poisoned."

That was Andrea, who was leaning over her now. Beth watched as Andrea lifted the syringe to her nose and sniffed at it.

Someone placed a bag over her face and forced air into her lungs. It wasn't enough. The edges of her vision were going dark. She caught a glimpse of Daryl's face, full of fear as he looked down at her, reaching out to touch her, before everything went black.

**.**

**.**

_**Though he hated to do it **_Rick knew he couldn't leave his people in the hospital. No one could be trusted to approach Beth. Andrea had countered the poison in Beth's system but the chance that another assassin would reach her was simply too great.

Rick had contacts in Austria. With Shane's help he got Hershel released and then took over for them from there. Regrettably he had to leave Shane out of the loop about where they were being taken.

"Where are you sending Daddy?" asked Maggie. She and Rick were at Beth's side. The girl was small and pale but she was able to breathe and move on her own.

"Not just him. I need you to go with him. He needs you now," Rick said. Maggie nodded so he continued. "Officially I'm sending you to Linz. Once you land there you're going to be doing what we call 'going dark.' Nobody but my team and I will know where you are. You'll be taken to a safe house in Wolfsburg. That's in Germany. You'll be secure there. Shane won't know where you are and therefore it's unlikely anyone he has to work with will find out."

"Is he the traitor?" Maggie asked.

"I don't believe for a second Shane is behind any of this," Rick said with confidence. Maggie nodded, trying to relax. "As soon as this is over you and your father will be brought back home."

"Will Daddy survive this trip?"

"He will. All of his equipment is onboard and he'll have a doctor to treat him. He's stronger now than he was three days ago."

"But he lost his leg," Maggie said, her eyes tearing up.

"He'll get a prosthetic and he'll be back up on his feet. He'll still have a full life," Rick assured her.

Once he got Maggie and Hershel out of the hospital Rick turned his attention to Beth. Theodore was going to co-pilot Maggie and Hershel on their long journey to Wolfsburg. Carol and Glenn insisted on going with them. Before that, however, he brought a chopper in for Rick to fly Beth out of Ft. Benning. They couldn't trust that they wouldn't be tailed and their vehicles had been identified.

"I've got the security footage of our arrival from the gates in," Michonne said. "We can't be identified should the Threat's people search for us that way. I've put a rather nasty virus into their security system. It'll take hours before they can start recording again, so let's get out of here while the gettin's good."

"Good work," said Rick.

He, Michonne, Daryl, Lori, and Andrea left the hospital, wheeling Beth to the helipad atop the hospital, where Theodore was waiting.

"Take care of my baby," he said toi Rick.

"Will do."

Theodore shook his head. "That's what you said about my Corvette back in Miami. You totaled it."

Rick sighed. "You're still mad about that car? That was five years ago and I replaced it."

Theodore looked ready to slug Rick so he backed down.

"I was being chased by a drug lord. I barely got out with my life, if you remember. Nothing will happen to the chopper. You have my word."

Theodore left, not looking at all reassured or pleased, but at least he left without argument.

"I've got a flight plan that says you're going to Miami," said Shane, approaching from the helipad exit. "You can drop Hummingbird on the way to the warehouse where you'll hide the chopper. Nobody will follow. I'll take care of records."

Shane offered his hand and Rick shook it. "Get this bastard, Walsh."

"I'll get him or die trying," Shane vowed. He stood on the helipad and watched as Rick lifted off, taking Beth and his team with him. He hoped he could end this soon, but the truth was, Shane was starting to think he'd bitten off more than he could chew, and he didn't know if Beth and her family would ever be safe again.


	10. Chapter 10

_Just like the white winged dove  
Sings a song, sounds like she's singing  
I said "Ooo, baby, ooo"  
Said "Ooo"_

_**The music poured from the speakers**_ that Daryl had placed in the corners of the ceiling with such rich clarity that it sounded like Stevie Nicks was giving a live performance in the middle of the living room. Daryl peered into the oven to check the chicken he was roasting. It had at least another hour before it was done. Every now and then his eyes went to Beth, who sat on the couch staring out the window with her legs tucked up under her. She looked tiny and lost, and deep sadness filled her eyes.

He went to her and knelt in front of her. Every evening for the past week she'd come over for dinner. She rarely spoke. He didn't know how to lift her from the mood she was in.

"Talk to me," he said.

"About what?"

"What you're feeling."

She turned her steady gaze to him. "My father was almost killed. I was almost killed. I feel like I may never see my family again. At any moment some killer could pop up out of nowhere and take you or me out. I'm feeling pretty shitty, honestly. On top of it all, you've spent the past week off all three of your jobs to look after me. I feel like I'm screwing up your life. I feel like a fucking burden! I'm useless. I can't work because Negan, or one of his people, may walk into the café at any moment. I can't do anything but sit around while…Oh God. Forget it."

"So I'm taking a couple of weeks off from my work," Daryl shrugged. "I'm not exactly complaining about a vacation. Beth, you're not a burden. You're not useless and none of this is your fault. It happened to you and it's beyond your control."

"I know that, but knowing it doesn't make it easier to live with."

He promised he'd return soon and disappeared into his bathroom. After twenty minutes he returned.

"Come on." He held out his hand.

Beth regarded him warily. "Where?"

"Just trust me."

She took his hand and followed him into the bathroom. There was a walk-in shower to the right, and a large round tub as deep as a pool with jets that made the deep blue water roll. The water was scented with something flowery and soothing.

"Get in. I'll come back for you in twenty."

Deciding to humor Daryl, Beth undressed and slipped into the tub. The water was just right, hot without being uncomfortable, and it rolled against her skin like hundreds of fingertips pressing the tension away from her muscles. She closed her eyes and felt her body relax. Her muscles had been tenser than she realized. It seemed as though no time at all had passed before Daryl summoned her. He'd set out a very thick blue robe that she wrapped herself in after toweling off.

"Come on. Don't be afraid," he said, smiling at her.

He took her hand and led her into the smallest of the three bedrooms. It had a window that overlooked the parking lot, not a great view, but that wasn't what mattered. The shelves that lined the walls had, literally, hundreds of differently scented oils and rubs and equipment. The center of the room was taken up by a table.

"Take off your robe and climb up. Don't be embarrassed. I see people naked all the time. This is just part of the job."

It wasn't embarrassment that made her nipples threaten to pebble when she slid the robe off her body and she climbed up on the table. There was a place for her face to poke through and she found herself staring at the floor. There was a screen built into the floor that showed her images of waterfalls and other natural scenes. Then the room was filled with the soothing sounds of a rainstorm.

"Here we go," Daryl said.

He drizzled something onto her back and then began to rub it into her skin. He worked at her muscles with such expertise that she moaned.

"Sorry," she said.

"No need to apologize," he replied softly.

"This is great. I can see why someone would pay hundreds of dollars for a massage from you."

It really was wonderful. He put something that felt like it was made of wood against her skin and rolled it up and down. It made a clicking sound and it rolled the knots of tension right out of the center of her back. He began working his way down her legs and finally her feet. Then he came up to her arms and massaged them down to her fingers.

"You've got a place here," he said, returning to her lower back and pressing a sore spot that had a knot underneath.

"It's been hurting ever since that crazy woman attacked me. I landed on something, I think," Beth said.

"I'll take care of it."

He began to gently work the sore muscles with the pads of his thumbs until the pain melted away. Once it was gone, he started to go over her back once again. Without any tension left in her muscles the feel of his hands shifted from soothing to arousing.

"Okay, turn over," he said.

She could tell by the look on his face that he was in work mode. He was focused on her legs, his brow furrowed in concentration. He worked his way down to her feet and was massaging them when another moan escaped her. This time it was clearly not a moan of pleasure that innocently stemmed from the therapeutic benefits of the massage, but one of sexual arousal.

"Daryl…" she breathed.

He swallowed, feeling the shift of energy between them, and put her foot down.

"Well, dinner is almost ready and I think you're good," he said. "You can wear the-"

Beth sat up as he was walking past her and took his face in her hands.

"Daryl…"

"Beth, look, this isn't-"

She pressed her lips to his and parted her knees so that he was between them, leaning against the table. His hands immediately went to her lower back to pull her flush against him. He parted his lips and Beth deepened the kiss without hesitation, moans of need escaping them both. He pulled away, though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Keep touching me," she breathed. "I need you to touch me."

"We agreed to be just friends," he reminded her. Though being just friends wasn't nearly enough for him it would have to do. She deserved a man who would be hers and only hers, and his lifestyle wouldn't allow for that.

"I want you so much."

"I want you too," he confessed.

"You can have me. Right here, right now."

With a moan on his lips, one of anguish rather than pleasure, Daryl backed away from Beth. His eyes roamed her body and he ached to climb upon the table and give her everything she wanted, and to take what he wanted from her, but he refused.

"This isn't the time."

"Why not?" she said in frustration.

"Because you're grieving over your family and…Beth, it's too much, too soon. I've spent my whole life rushing into bed with women. I've made the same mistake over and over. If we do this, let's do it right. Let's take it slow. I know I'm just a whore but I-"

"You're not _just_ a whore, Daryl, you're a good man and you deserve to be happy. You also don't have to keep doing it for a living," she told him. "I know you're right. Now isn't the time and we should take it slow, but…"

It was hard to put her feelings into words. Now that she'd cooled off a bit she was glad he'd shown restraint. She didn't want to mess up something that could be good, and she reminded herself that she wouldn't necessarily have him to herself.

"You can stop that other part of your life," she said. "Think it over."

In the other room the timer on the oven sounded. Daryl kissed her chastely on the lips and then left her to find something to wear. She ended up going into his room and finding one of his tee shirts. She pulled on her underwear, though not her bra, and came to the table to eat.

"You're testing me, aren't you?" he said, eying her with dangerous interest.

"Nope," she said sweetly. "I just don't want to put my used clothes back on after a bath. Let's eat."

Somewhat stiffly, feeling tight in his jeans, Daryl took a seat across from her at the table.

**. **

**.**

_**As soon as Beth went home**_ for the night Daryl sat down at his desk and turned on his laptop. After checking his finances he estimated his total net worth at somewhere around 5.3 million dollars. He didn't need to work anymore. He could retire now, or at least semi-retire by giving up his work in the sex trade. He could even give up his job at Parrish Interiors and work as a masseur. He was a favorite at Lakeshore Country Club. He would work a few days a week and enjoy the rest of his life with Beth.

_What if she changes her mind?_

The one thing that held Daryl back from fully committing was fear. What if he gave Beth his heart and she broke it? He abandoned the desk for a soak in the tub, taking a glass of champagne with him, and mulled it over.

Love didn't come easily for Daryl Dixon. He'd been denied love and affection as a child, except for a few rare moments of sobriety from his mother in which she showed him kindness before she died when he was twelve, burning herself to death when she fell asleep with a lit cigarette and taking their meager little house with her.

Daryl had never been in a normal relationship with a woman. He'd always been too afraid to try because he was certain he'd fail. He honestly couldn't understand what Beth saw in him. He didn't know why she wanted to try. He couldn't reason out what it was about him that drew her. His money wasn't a draw for Beth. He could spot a gold digger a mile off. No, Beth was in this for _him_.

Against his best instincts Daryl finished his bath and returned to his desk. He calculated how much money he owed Ophelia, Nora, and Rachelle, prorated for time already used, and printed out checks. He also printed out letters explaining his retirement. He stamped envelopes and, before he could change his mind, walked the letters with the checks to the drop box in the lobby of the building and slipped them in. It was done. He was no longer a sex worker. He wasn't taking it back.

For the first time in over ten years Daryl Dixon wasn't a whore.

**.**

**.**

"_**Get up," Daryl said.**_

Beth had given him a key to her apartment, and he'd done likewise, at the request of Rick and Michonne. Everyone had keys to each others units should they need to get in during an emergency.

She looked, to Daryl, like an angel. She was hopelessly young and her face was so innocent in the first rays of dawn that illuminated her apartment in golden light. She smiled slightly but kept her eyes closed. Daryl had brought a warm wet cloth with him. He used it to gently clear sleep from her eyes.

"It's time to wake up," he said.

"But it's early."

"We have ten days until Independence Day. We need to get the flowerbeds finished and filled."

With her eyes clear Beth opened them and reached up to caress Daryl's face. "You want to finish the project? I thought you were going back to work today."

"I've quit Parrish Interiors. I um…I quit my other work too…"

Beth was wide awake now. "You quit with Ophelia and the others?"

Daryl nodded. "Yeah. I'll be working a few days a week at Lakeshore-"

Beth cut Daryl off by pulling him into a kiss. It was sloppy and wet and happy and it made them both laugh like school kids.

"Oh, Daryl," she said breathlessly. "You really want to try a serious relationship with me?"

He nodded. "Don't expect too much, Beth. You'll be the first serious relationship I've ever tried."

"Same here," she said. "We'll grow and learn together. So, tell me," she said, kissing him again. "When do I get all the benefits of being your girlfriend?"

"Benefits?" he questioned.

Her hand brushed lightly over his cock. "Yeah…_benefits_," she said, wiggling her brows.

"When the time is right. We'll know, believe me," he said on a laugh.

"It feels like the right time now, if you ask me."

"You horny beast," he said.

"I sure am."

He kissed her lightly on the lips, leaving her wanting much more, and got up off the bed. That was a dangerous place for him to be when he was trying to do right by a woman for the first time in his life. "Get up. We've got work to do, Sutton."

"Greene," she corrected. "My name is Elizabeth Naomi Greene. I go by Beth."

"I still wanna call you Sutton, sometimes. My nickname."

She sighed. "Fine, but I get to call you Father Dixon."

"That works."

**.**

**.**

_**By the time the sun set**_ Daryl and Beth had the flower boxes completed. They Collapsed on the roof, too tired to stand at the edge and look out toward Glory Lake, and watched the sky darken. Clouds were trying to roll in though rain wasn't likely. Beth wished those clouds had come in during the day to give them some relief from the sun beating down on their backs and heads. She had a sunhat but it did nothing to protect her arms and legs, which were thoroughly burned.

"What's next?" she asked.

"We get potting soil. I'm putting trees in the corners facing the street. We'll pick out saplings and the flowers we want later this week," he said. He didn't seem nearly as exhausted as Beth felt.

"If you don't mind, I think I'm just gonna lay here and die," Beth said. "Resurrect me tomorrow morning."

"Oh no. We're going to our respective apartments to take cool showers and then you, my dear, are going to put something nice on. I'm taking you to dinner."

"Where?"

"The nicest restaurant in town. It's called the Waterston House. You haven't had steak until you've had one from there, trust me."

She bit her lip for a moment and then stared him in the eye before saying, "Mmm, I'd love to have some meat in my mouth tonight."

"Beth," he breathed. "Stop talking dirty to me. You're wearing down my resolve."

"Okay. I'll be good…for now."

She gave him a quick peck on the lips and struggled to get up. She didn't know where he found the energy to work all day and then go out to dinner, much less having fucked his clients all night after putting in a full day of manual labor. That life, she thought, explained those arms and his legs, at least. He had a great body. She couldn't wait to feel it pressed against hers, and pressing _into_ hers.

Unfortunately for Beth she hadn't planned on going out to dinner at the nicest restaurant in town with a wealthy ex-gigolo when Michonne took her shopping. She perused her clothes and found that it was sorely lacking for such an evening. She didn't purchase one pair of heels or a dress worthy of the town's best eating establishment. She turned to the bed, ready to fling herself down to worry it over and come up with an excuse to go to a burger joint, when she saw a little black dress, a clutch purse, and a pair of silver heels on the bed, courtesy of Daryl Dixon.

She examined the dress clearly. She wouldn't have been surprised if it had cost him hundreds of dollars. There was even a real pearl necklace to go with. She dressed and marveled that Daryl had gotten her size just right. Even the shoes fit perfectly. She was glad the marks from Ophelia's attack were gone and had left no scars to be seen when she styled her hair in an elaborate bun. All that was left were the pearls, which she put on last.

Daryl arrived five minutes after she finished dressing. He looked her over from head to toe with an approving smile. "You're beautiful."

"You look good yourself," she said, enjoying the gray, form fitting suit he wore.

Daryl offered Beth his arm. "Shall we, Sutton?"

"My pleasure, Father Dixon," she answered, looping her arm through his. As they emerged from the building into the warm night air, Beth wasn't tired anymore. She was happy, excited, feelings she'd come to believe she wouldn't experience again for a long, long time.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Beth and Daryl had another argument.**_ This time it was over what kind of flowers they would plant in the flowerboxes.

"But the roses are prettier," Daryl said.

"The chrysanthemums are pretty too. I don't see why we can't have both."

"What color, then?"

"All kinds."

Daryl made a show of caving to her and she smiled happily. That, in turn, made him happy. They chose a variety of flowers already in bloom, in a range of colors to brighten the courtyard. Daryl hoped like hell they'd be able to keep the flowers alive. Even if they failed they knew they'd enjoy trying.

Lunch was approaching. Daryl wanted to grab some sandwiches and take them to a shade tree in Meadow Park. As they were heading to the truck they passed a music store that boasted to sell everything from vinyl records, to 8-tracks and cassettes. She grabbed Daryl's hand and dragged him inside.

"Oh, God, look," she said, pointing to a neon sign at the very back of the store that said Adults Only. The entrance was manned by a young guy leaning, bored, on the counter. Beth pulled Daryl with her and the guy looked up.

"Sorry, Miss, but you gotta be eighteen to go in, even if you do have your father's permission."

"He's not my father he's my boyfriend."

"Knock it off, Zach, you know damn well I don't have kids," Daryl complained.

Zach laughed at his not-very-funny joke and allowed them to pass.

"Don't let that bother you," Beth said, reading Daryl's expression. He gave away more than he knew, at least in her eyes.

"I _am_ a lot older than you," he pointed out.

"None of that matters."

"Wait," he said, pulling up short when they got a little further in to the aisle. There was only one other customer, a man in his fifties perusing porn movies an aisle over. "How old are you?"

The old man looked in their direction, interested now. Beth ignored him.

"Nineteen."

Daryl flinched nearly imperceptibly. _Nearly_.

"I'm an adult, Daryl. If it makes you feel better I'll be twenty this December."

His noncommittal grunt irritated Beth. She turned to the man who was openly staring at them, watching what he hoped would turn into an interesting show.

"Go mind your own business, you dirty old fart," she groused. He huffed and turned away, and Beth looked back to Daryl.

"I'm not a child, Daryl. I'm old enough to know what I want and who I want to be with."

"I know. Just give me a minute to wrap my mind around it," he said.

She pulled him along, past a wall of shelves offering incense, lubricants, and edible underwear. They turned the corner of an aisle and saw a display case that showcased several types of toys. This grabbed Beth's attention. She looked over the dildos, both plastic and glass, the vibrators, cock rings, and butt plugs, with interest.

Daryl stood beside her, watching her as she studied the items lined up before them. He was deeply conflicted. He had feelings for her but at the same time she was so much younger than him. Half his age to be precise. He felt just a little bit perverted until he saw how she languidly stroked a finger across her chest and stared at the sex toys. She was right-she wasn't a little girl at all.

There was a flush to her skin and her pupils had dilated. He saw her nipples were hard and stood proudly against the thin cotton of her tee-shirt. He wondered what she knew of sex. He wanted to teach her about pleasure while she reminded him of what it was to be innocent. He wanted to learn about love and trust from her while she learned the art of lovemaking from him.

"Are you a virgin?" he asked quietly.

Beth shook her head and Daryl tried not to feel disappointed. "I've had a couple of boyfriends, but you made me feel more with a shoulder rub than they ever did in bed."

Daryl trusted Beth to be honest with him so he took her word at that. He pointed to a very small vibrator called a bullet. It was white and purple.

"You'd love that," he said. "I'll buy it for you."

"Daryl, I don't want you to spend your money on me."

"I know," he answered. "That's why I want to. I know you're interested in me and not my bank account. Trust me. You'll love this."

Beth wrapped her arms around him. "I'd rather have you."

"You will," he promised. "Until then, use this."

They began to peruse the movies, laughing at the ridiculous titles.

"Oh no. Look at this one. _mASSinations_," Beth read out loud with a cringe. She located a DVD with three men dressed in period clothing but the crotches were cut out and their exaggerated penises hung out. "_The Three Dickateers_. That one's so corny it actually hurts to read it!"

They broke into laughter. Daryl found himself amused as well. He pointed to a few covers and read their titles aloud. "_The Sperminator, The Golden Shower Girls, There Will Be Cum_.I don't want to even think about _Titty, Titty, Bang, Bang_."

Beth's eyes landed on a video that caught her attention. _How to Fuck Like a Pro_. "Maybe I should get that one."

Daryl led her away from it. "No. They'll try to teach you to become a porn star. That's not what sex really is, Beth. That's not how people express love."

"But I want it to be good for you when we finally do it."

Her eyes were big and blue and heartbreakingly honest. "Just being with you is going to be the best sex I'll ever have," he said honestly. She looked dubious and worried but didn't argue the point. Instead he bought her the tiny vibrator, and batteries, and they headed out.

"Let's eat at my place after we lug all the potting soil and plants up to the roof," she said. "It's too hot to stay outdoors and I'm about to burn to a crisp again."

**.**

**.**

_**It was well past three in**_ the afternoon when Beth and Daryl had all the supplies for the flowerboxes loaded up to the roof. She collapsed on the bed, intent on getting up as soon as Daryl came in, to make their lunch. Instead he laid down beside her and handed her a bottle of water, which she drained.

"I have an idea," she said.

"Lay it on me."

Beth leaned up on one elbow to regard him. "I know you don't want to rush into sex but I've got needs just like any woman, so why not compromise? Meet me half way."

Daryl frowned and wondered what she was going to suggest. He didn't want to turn her down. He didn't want to do anything that would make her unhappy, but he also didn't want to repeat the mistakes of his past.

"What do you have in mind?"

"I get myself off. You watch me."

Daryl could sense Beth's need in the way she looked at him, in the hope in her big blue eyes, and he couldn't refuse her. Watching her masturbate would test the limits of his resolve and his willpower but it would help her relieve some sexual tension, so he agreed.

"Okay. I'm game."

Beth laughed happily and kissed him. "Put the batteries in the vibrator. I'll be back in a minute."

Daryl set to work opening the box while Beth headed off to the bathroom. As he put the batteries into the vibrator he thought of what was to come and wondered if he could hold out. He'd had a lot of sex in his life but it had always been work for him. It wasn't that the sex had been unpleasant. Far from it. It had just become so routine to him and there hadn't been any emotion behind it.

Now he was with a woman he had feelings for and he hoped he could control himself. He was playing with fire, so was she, and he didn't want either of them to get burned. Though sex was something he was intimately familiar with, it also occurred to Daryl that Beth was still fairly new to it. It still held wonder for her, and excitement. Besides, he doubted she'd been touched in a while, or had any kind of sexual activity. If he wanted her to wait for the right time for them to come together then he would have to give her something to tide her over.

Beth emerged from the bathroom and grabbed her phone. She tapped out a quick text to Michonne, 632. Then she came to the bed and pulled the ponytail from her hair so that it hung down. She played her fingers through her hair and teased it until it looked windswept and slightly wild.

"You're so beautiful, Beth," he said quietly.

"Really? I mean…I don't think I'm anything special and you've been with a lot of beautiful women."

He supposed that for a long time, if not always, the ghosts of the women he'd taken to his bed would haunt their relationship. He didn't want that but there was little he could do about it but assure her that she was the only one he was with now.

"You're beautiful. In my eyes you're the loveliest woman I've ever seen. Try to remember that I'm with you and only you. None of those other women matter. I didn't feel anything for them."

"You feel for me?"

"Deeply," he said.

He was telling the truth. She could sense it and it made her heart swell with affection so intense it was like a physical pain in her chest. She was falling hard, and fast, and it scared her. It also thrilled her.

Careful to keep eye contact, Beth pulled her shirt off. Daryl allowed his gaze to slide down to her small breasts, which were tipped with pink nipples. He went to reach for one of the hardened buds but she halted his hand.

"You don't touch me. I don't touch you."

"Those are the rules?"

"If we put our hands on each other it'll lead us down a path you're not ready to take," she pointed out.

He nodded, knowing she was right. Still, he drew in a breath and hissed with frustration and longing. "Okay…"

Daryl's eyes devoured every inch of Beth, and tracked every move she made, as she undressed. When she was finally naked before him she crawled onto the bed.

"I want to see you. _All _of you," she said. Her voice was thick with need.

Eager to give Beth what she wanted, Daryl took off his clothes. He wanted to make this good for her, and he wanted to enjoy it himself. He kicked aside his jeans and knelt at the foot of the bed, facing Beth.

She drew her knees up and then parted them to fully reveal herself to Daryl. She watched as his flaccid cock swelled and grew to an impressive size. He was long and thick, and she longed to feel him sheathed fully inside her. Someday she would. She just hoped that it would be soon.

The tiny vibrator buzzed with an intensity she didn't expect. She placed it against her sensitive clit and moaned at the sensations it induced. Daryl was right-she did love the little device.

"Oh, God…"

The vibrator was intense and it sent tiny little shocks deep inside. Her pussy, the core of her body, began to fill with delicious tension. That tension was intensified knowing that Daryl was watching her, and also by watching him stroke his cock. Their moans intensified as they struggled to climax.

Beth came first. Her body clenched inside and she instinctively reached for the sheets on either side of her as her hips bucked off the bed while she rode the waves of her orgasm. She could still hear the slap-slap-slap sound as Daryl pumped himself. His face was flushed and he had the most intense look of longing on his face that Beth had ever seen in another human being.

"Come on my tits," she gasped, sensing he was close. He hurried to straddle her and she watched with anticipation as he worked to find release. He came, explosively, his come bursting from him to land in thick, hot globs on her chest. He cried out, his head thrown back, and she knew he was truly lost in the moment.

"Fuck!" he moaned, as the last of his climax drizzled lightly over his knuckles. He collapsed next to her and struggled to catch his breath.

**.**

**.**

_**Andrea Harris stared through the binoculars **_into Beth's apartment. She could only see Beth's feet since the bed was shoved back into a nook, but she could see Daryl just fine.

"Something wrong?" Lori asked. She came over with a lit cigarette that she passed to Andrea, before lighting one for herself.

"Daryl. That guy's got one intense dick," Andrea answered.

"Andie!" Lori swatted at her girlfriend. "You're not watching them have sex are you?"

"Mutual masturbation," said Andrea, and she took a deep pull off her Marlboro Red. "He's close. I think he's gonna come on her perky little titties. Or maybe in her mouth. Fuck, I can't see from this angle!"

"You should be ashamed of yourself," Lori admonished.

Andrea put the binoculars down and turned to Lori. "Oh, like you haven't noticed her nineteen-year-old tits, or that guy, from head to toe. He's a whore. I wonder how much he'd charge for a three-way with us?"

"Beth's got feelings for him. I think he loves her, too, so there won't be any three-ways between you, me, and Daryl."

Andrea pouted. "Spoil sport."

"We'll just have to stick with each other," Lori replied.

"I can live with that."

Andrea leaned in and kissed Lori. She deepened it before running a finger over Lori's jeans, just where her clit was.

"Wanna fuck?"

"Yes," Lori said at once. "Later. Right now we've got guard duty."

Andrea sighed in frustration and sat back to finish her cigarette.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N**: For new fics go to my website. The link to it is on my profile. Also, prepare for Lori to be a serious bad ass in this chapter!

**.**

**.**

_**Since it was likely Negan would return for the Independence day celebrations Beth wasn't allowed out for that weekend. **_They decided to celebrate on the rooftop on the fourth but Beth would have to shop for the barbecue a few days ahead, just in case Negan decided to make an appearance. Shane had promised to keep a close eye on him, to see if he left Senoia, but his investigation could easily pull him away and Negan could leave without Shane's knowledge.

On July second Beth, Lori, Andrea, and Michonne headed out to the grocers to get the shopping done. By two o'clock in the afternoon the temperatures had soared to ninety-four degrees. Thankfully, however, there were cotton ball clouds that occasionally offered relief from the glare of the sun.

"I feel like the sun is literally trying to cook me right now," Andrea groused.

Lori pressed a light kiss to her lips. "Your tan is fabulous this year, Baby."

"I'll have lines everywhere."

"But I love your lines," Lori said.

"And I love you."

"Awww," Beth found herself saying, with genuine warmth. "You two are so cute."

"They are, aren't they?" Michonne agreed.

"How did you two end up together?" questioned Beth.

"We've known one another for years, working with Rick, but last year we sort of…" Lori looked at Andrea for the right way to continue.

"Got drunk and ended up in the sack," Andrea finished with a nod.

Lori also nodded. "Pretty much. I realized I liked it and we ended up with the occasional tryst. Then I realized I loved her. Carl is crazy about her, too. He thinks it's cool to have a bisexual mother."

"He's a very vocal liberal and a die-hard feminist," Andrea said proudly. "I love that kid."

"What about you and Daryl?" asked Michonne. "I heard some rather interesting noises coming from your room when I came to check on you."

"I sent you a text," Beth said, feeling her face redden.

"You sent 633 instead of 632," Michonne explained.

"What's 633?"

"Bomb threat," Lori, Andrea, and Michonne said in unison before bursting into laughter.

"Oh, God," Beth said, horrified and amused at the same time.

"I figured it was a mistake but I had to check," said Michonne. "Sounded like he was dropping a bomb on you, too."

Beth was as red as the mustang that stole Michonne's parking spot. Michonne gave the man the finger but he only shrugged smugly and sauntered on.

"I'm tempted to hack his GPS," Michonne groused.

"I wish you would. Make it so it'll only read in garbled words, or keep telling him he's in Canada," Andrea said, watching the man leave. "He's got a nice ass, though."

Lori rolled her eyes.

"We didn't actually do anything," Beth said, going back to the subject of her and Daryl.

"He made you make those sounds without doing anything with you? Wow. That man must be _amazing _in the sack," Michonne said, impressed.

"I mean, we just sort of…it wasn't traditional sex, that's all I'll say. She was unaware of the knowing look Andrea gave Lori. "Unlike you and Rick."

Michonne suddenly bit her lip while Andrea laughed. "Come on, spill it!"

They climbed from the cool interior of the car and into the humid heat. Beth was happy to have some women to hang around with, even if they were assassins trained to use deadly force without hesitation.

"I heard that headboard thumping last night," Beth said. "For fifteen solid minutes."

"Rick, the stallion," Lori said, somewhat wistfully. "The man has stamina and I won't lie: I sometimes miss the dick he's got on him."

"You filthy whore," Andrea said in a blasé tone. "So what made you hop in the sack with him?"

"I was a little tipsy and he kept touching me," Michonne confessed.

Lori shouldered her. "And you kinda love him."

Michonne shrugged. "Yeah, there's that."

"You two back together?" asked Beth.

"I think so."

"Give in, Honey," Andrea advised. "You two will always find your way back to each other. The sooner you stop fighting it, the happier you'll both be."

The store was packed with people shopping for the holiday. They went through the store, gathering the ingredients they'd need for the feast, though Michonne insisted they go to the butcher on Sixth Avenue for the meats. She swore by him so they bought everything except the meats at the grocers. The wait in line was long and took over twenty minutes to get through. Then they headed out in to the heat.

"Keep your eyes peeled," Michonne said.

"Why?" asked Beth, alarmed now. "You don't see Negan, do you?"

"There's a man following us. He's been shadowing us since we picked up the ice cream," Andrea said.

"I saw him too."

"Well, I didn't," Beth said.

"Here he comes."

The women had their hands near their lower backs. It occurred to Beth they were all packing guns, or at least knives, and had them hidden there.

"Excuse me," the man said, rushing up to them. He approached Michonne with a bright smile and kind of swagger that Beth usually found annoying. Now it was worrying. Michonne blocked her view of the man by standing in front of her.

"Yeah?" Michonne asked coolly. The man wasn't deterred. Then again, he wouldn't be if he was an assassin.

"I just wanted to ask if you're okay. It had to hurt like a bitch when you fell from heaven."

Andrea and Lori both groaned. Michonne eyed the man sideways as he shrugged.

"I heard that one works."

"I've got a man," Michonne said. "I'm very happy and very loyal."

He nodded his head once then looked around her at Beth. "How about you, cutie?"

"Same," she said.

He looked to Lori next but Andrea piped up. "She's taken too-by _me_."

"Wow…four women, my best line, and no luck."

"Hopefully that'll change," Michonne said, still keeping her hand near her lower back. He nodded again and then left, heading off toward a blue SUV.

"He'll never get laid with that approach," said Lori. They watched as he started up his dark blue SUV and pulled out of the shopping center parking lot.

"I want to go shopping again," said Beth. "If we can. I've got my check from the Flower St. Café. It should be just enough to get a really sexy pair of panties. Daryl said his favorite color is blue so I'd like to get something in that color."

"Hoping to get lucky?" asked Michonne.

"I just want to make him smile."

"You wanna make him smile? Don't wear any panties at all," Andrea advised, before snatching the keys from Michonne and climbing behind the wheel.

"Slut," said Lori playfully, before getting into the passenger seat next to her and buckling her seat belt.

**.**

**.**

_**Agent Craig Bradwell climbed into his stifling Ford Explorer and jacked up the AC.**_ He pulled out of the parking lot immediately, knowing that to remain behind would make the three women guarding Beth Greene suspect him. To be suspected would be a risk because he had no doubt that any one of those still unidentified women wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet between his eyes. They were packing. They were soldiers, warriors, amazons, whatever name you wanted to prescribe to a woman who would kill with deadly precision to protect their own.

Now that he was a block away, in an alley behind a row of shopping centers where filthy dumpsters stank up the soupy summer air, Craig pulled up the footage from the tiny camera he'd had attached to the pen in his shirt pocket. He then compared a still he got of Beth Greene, largely hidden behind the black woman, to Beth Greene's driver's license photo. Her hair was short now, and colored strawberry blonde, but she was undeniably the same woman. Those big blue eyes were a dead giveaway.

"Agent Bradwell. I need to speak with Agent Carstairs," he said, speaking to headquarters.

"Agent Carstairs is in a meeting."

"Pull him out of the meeting. This can't wait."

"Please hold."

The footage of the vehicles that had been captured by traffic cams driving on the 520. Whoever had hacked the security feeds to erase footage of their arrival at Ft. Benning had missed a shot of a large gray truck registered to a Daryl Dixon in Springston. He and Carstairs had found the footage the hacker had missed and tracked down the owner of the truck. So far Bradwell had been hard pressed to find any evidence that the Greene girl was associated with Dixon, or that he was even involved. He hadn't seen Dixon with Greene or her protectors. There was a good chance his truck had been stolen. The man was rich, set for life, and the four times Bradwell had seen him, Dixon had been on a bike. There was a good chance he hadn't reported his truck stolen because he hadn't missed it yet, since it wasn't a primary mode of transportation for him. Then again, he may not have reported it stolen because he didn't want to draw attention to himself if he was associated, in any way, with Beth Greene.

"What's so damned important I had to leave a meeting with Negan?" Carstairs asked.

"I've found Beth Greene."

Carstairs hesitated. "You're certain?"

"I spoke to her. She was with three women. They looked like bodyguards. I don't know exactly where they're keeping her but I have an idea she may be close to Dixon."

"You know the drill. It's time for a stakeout. As soon as you see her near that building you have the all clear to take her out. Take out anyone who tries to get in your way. If you need backup send me a list of the people you want. I'll have them there ASAP."

Carstairs hung up and Bradwell put the Explorer in gear. He was going to go to the Flower street address. He'd wait for days if he had to, but he had a feeling Beth Greene would turn up sooner rather than later. This would really put him in well with Negan. He may even be able to join the Saviors. Being on the inside would not only provide him with power but it would line his pockets well. Bradwell smiled and turned onto Flower street. He was about to be a very rich man.

**.**

**.**

_**Lori nearly signed her married name, Grimes, on the credit card receipt at Amants Feuilles Lingerie Shop.**_ She'd not only helped Beth pick out something out in blue to wear for Daryl, she'd picked out something in red for herself to wear for Andrea. She caught herself about to write out Grimes and wrote out her maiden name, which she'd taken back after the divorce, and wrote Huston. Two years and she still thought of herself as Lori Grimes. Despite what she'd told Beth about not being in love with Rick, that wasn't true. She was in love with him, and always would be, she suspected, but he would never be hers. He never _had _been hers, in fact. Her relationship with Andrea was helping her over it, though.

Now they stood sat in the air conditioned comfort of the new car Rick had brought in with him from the hangar where he'd left Theo's helicopter. It was a maroon RAM 2500 with an extended cab. It, too, was bullet proof. They waited for Michonne and Andrea to return from the butchers.

"I'll bet Andrea's eyes will pop out of her head when she sees you in that negligee," Beth said.

"Oh, she definitely will."

"May I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Daryl and I haven't known each other long, and I keep telling myself that my feelings for him are too intense, too soon. I keep thinking that a lot of what I feel for him is tied up in my situation. Then another part of me…"

Lori nodded. "Someplace deep in your soul just _knows_. You love him. You always will no matter what happens."

Beth sighed in relief. Lori got it. "Yeah. I just know that I really love Daryl. Is that what happened with you and Andrea?"

Lori shook her head. "Me and Rick. I lied to you, Beth, when I said I'm no longer in love with Rick. I am. I just know he's not in love with me. He's in love with Michonne."

Beth reached out and hugged Lori, which surprised her, but the contact was comforting. "I'm so sorry. It has to be so hard for you to see him with Michonne."

"Hey."

It was Andrea, pecking on the passenger side window. Beth was worried Andrea would misconstrue the hug but there was a twinkle in her eye that said she wasn't really angry.

"What's going on here?"

"Nothing inappropriate," Beth said. "We were talking and I'm feeling emotional and-"

"Beth, it's okay," Andrea said, climbing behind her into the back of the cab. "I'm not threatened by a little hug. Now, if you'd been tongue kissing I'd have a real hair up my ass about it."

"We've got to get the ice cream home," Michonne said. "The ice in this cooler is turning into a slushy mess."

"We've got everything we need?" asked Lori, who smiled at Beth. They were girlfriends who had a secret now.

"Yep. Let's roll."

When they pulled into the parking lot Lori asked Andrea to help Beth load things upstairs. She needed a word with Michonne.

"Our pick-up artist is parked up the street," Lori said.

Michonne went to the corner of the building and peered around the corner. She saw the truck sitting up the street, and the man himself was sitting inside. "I didn't see that. Good catch. I'll tell Rick."

"I'll deal with him. I'm going across the street. He may have already called this in. Have Rick get ready to bolt."

Michonne nodded. "Damn. We were all set to have a nice weekend at home, too."

"We'll have to have it somewhere else."

**.**

**.**

_**Lori went straight to her unit, which was located across from Beth, and prepared her rifle for duty. **_Then she changed her mind. The noise from the kill shot would cause way too much noise and draw too much attention. She was going to have to take a quieter, more personal approach with the threat sitting on the street, watching the apartment building.

She grabbed her Glock, attached a silencer, sheathed a beauty of a hunting knife Andrea had given her a few months ago, and then headed out the back of her building through the rear exit. She circled around behind the truck and crouched, making sure she could sneak up on him. She watched as he stared intently at the building, unaware of the threat coming up behind him. His door locks were sticking up too high for them to be locked. He was careless in that regard, and that would be good for her, bad for him.

With quick movements Lori stood, pulled the passenger door open, aimed her gun at him, and slid in. The car was clean, probably a rental, or possibly government issue. She wasn't sure and she didn't care.

"Hello, Darlin'," Lori said in a friendly tone.

Bradwell paled when he saw the gun aimed at him. "Okay, look, I was interested in the lady I spoke to, the black woman, but I'm not-"

"Cut the bullshit. You're not a stalker, you're an agent. I'm guessing FBI. You're after Beth."

Bradwell swallowed. He figured there was no point in keeping up the woman had him figured out.

"How did you find us?" Lori demanded.

"Through a truck registered to Daryl Dixon."

"Have you called this in?"

"I'm waiting for her to get back," he said, shaking his head. "They know she's in this town. You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

"Yes," she answered honestly.

She saw the attack coming before he actually moved to strike out at her. Lori didn't hesitate to pull the trigger. She put three slugs, quietly, into his side. To make sure he was dead, Lori drove her knife up and under his sternum, sending the knife straight into his heart. Bradwell slumped toward the steering wheel but Lori caught him and pushed him back in his seat. She texted Andrea. 777. Body disposal. She was surprised when it was Rick who showed up.

"I'll take care of him and his car," Rick said, coming to the passenger door. "You retrieve Daryl from the Lakeshore Country Club, now. Take them to safe house six. I'll meet you all there in two hours."

"Rick, before I go, I want to tell you something. I know you're with Michonne again. We were talking about it today. I understand that. I respect it, but I want you to know…I'm still in love with you."

Rick swallowed. He'd really hoped Lori was over him, as she'd claimed on multiple occasions. "Lori, this isn't the time to talk about-"

She smothered his mouth with a kiss. He surprised her when he returned it in full. He clutched her to him, kissing her with as much passion as he had when they were dating and he was trying to get over Michonne. It felt good. It was like getting a fix of a drug she'd tried to give up. She was satisfied for now but it wouldn't be long before she needed more of him.

Rick pulled away from her. His taste lingered in her mouth. There was nothing like him. As much as she loved Andrea Lori knew that neither she nor anyone else she was ever with, would ever be able to replace Rick in her heart.

Rick kindly stroked hair away from Lori's forehead. She had an idea what he was about to tell her and it broke her heart all over again, though she hid it well. "That's the last time that happens between us. I'm sorry, Lori. I used you in the worst way. I hurt you. I broke your heart, but I love Michonne. I'm not giving her up for anything-not even the mother of my son."

Lori nodded and felt tears sting her eyes, hurt tug at her heart, and anger boil in her belly. "I'm sorry too. I'm sorry I ever met you. I'm sorry I gave my heart to you."

"Lori-"

"Just being honest, Rick. I can't help how I feel. Just like you can't."

She moved past Rick, leaving him to do the job of pulling Bradwell's body into the passenger seat before getting behind the wheel to find a place to dispose of the vehicle and the body.

**.**

**.**

_**Daryl couldn't wait for his shift at the Lakeshore Country Club to end.**_ He wanted to get home to Beth. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, taste her. He wanted to sink into her. He wasn't sure his resolve to wait would hold much longer. He did know one thing: he enjoying having someone waiting for him at home. Someone he loved. He had, he realized, never known what that was like. How fucked up was that, he wondered, to be forty years old and never have had a normal relationship, or been seriously in love with someone?

He was about to scrub down his table when he saw a Hispanic man in his early thirties came to the entrance of his parlor. The guy set off warning bells in Daryl at once. He had the coldest look in his eyes that Daryl had ever seen in another human being. His eyes were so devoid of feeling that he looked like a dead man propped up on his feet, filling the entrance.

"Daryl Dixon?" the man asked.

He kept his right arm behind his back and he made no move to enter the parlor. Daryl plastered a smile on his face and decided that if he was wrong about the man he would apologize. If he was right, no apology would be necessary. He grabbed a towel and made a show of wiping his hands as he took a few casual steps toward him.

"That's right. Are you here for a massage?"

The man's face remained cold, completely devoid of emotion, as he began to bring his right arm from behind his back. Daryl threw the towel into the guys face and grabbed the bottle of sanitizer, which was really nothing more than a bottle of bleach water, and lunged for the newcomer. The man fired blindly while Daryl dodged to the right, barely avoiding being shot. The gunfire sounded loud and angry, and Daryl heard several people scream in confusion and fear.

Daryl sprayed the man straight in the face with the bleach water, making him scream. He snatched the gun from the man's hand and landed a solid punch to his jaw, knocking him back. The man fell, clawing at his eyes, screaming in pain, while Daryl got a good grip on the gun.

"Martinez!"

"In here!" Martinez shouted.

Daryl lifted the gun and fired three rounds, center of mass, into the other man's chest, sending him to the ground where he lay gasping for breath. He realized the guy was wearing a vest and would survive.

"What the hell?"

Tom, the security guard, was a giant of a man. He stood at six feet eight inches and weighed three hundred pounds, most of that muscle, though he'd gone a tiny bit soft around the middle.

"Get his gun!" Daryl shouted.

Tom acted at once. He was a former football player but he was swift and light on his feet despite his size. He kicked the gun out of the other man's reach, rolled him over, and put a knee in the man's back while twisting his arms up behind him. He grabbed his radio but Daryl halted him.

"Don't call the cops. Trust me. Just call the other guards. Bring cuffs."

Tom squinted in confusion but nodded and did as Daryl asked, calling for other guards instead of having someone call for the cops.

Daryl knelt beside Martinez and put the cold steel of the man's own gun under his chin. Martinez's eyes were red and watering from the bleach. He likely couldn't see a damn thing, which was fine with Daryl.

"Who the fuck are you? Why'd you try to kill me?"

"Kiss my ass, Hillbilly," Martinez spat.

The temptation to blow the man's head off was strong, since he was obviously a threat not just to him, but to Beth. The only explanation for the attack was that somehow he'd been connected with Beth. He knew that Negan's reach was deep, and that Martinez would only escape to cause more damage if he was allowed to live. However, if he did kill a man while he was down, and in full view of the security staff and clients of the country club, he would be labeled as a murderer and have to go on the run for God only knew how long. He didn't want to end up in the Georgia State prison with his brother. Two Dixon boys, murderers, wasn't what Daryl wanted his family to be known for. They were, after all, already known as drunken, no good scum.

Daryl pistol whipped Martinez into unconsciousness and stood up to find Lori and Michonne approaching.

"Where's Beth?" he demanded.

"With us. We've got to go," Lori said. "Now."

Daryl slipped Martinez' gun into the back waistband of his jeans and followed Michonne and Andrea out to the parking lot. In the distance he could hear police sirens. It would seem some of the members of the club had taken it upon themselves to report the shooting.

"Come on," said Michonne. "We can't be here when the cops arrive."

Daryl saw his crossbow and bolts in the bed of the truck, along with his computer, before he climbed into the back to sit beside Andrea. Beth was on the other side. He leaned across Andrea to kiss Beth.

"You can kiss me too, good-lookin'," Andrea joked.

He surprised her by giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks for keeping my woman safe."

Beth felt herself flush at being referred to by Daryl as his woman. She felt like she was his, and he was hers. She just hoped they didn't all die at Negan's hand before they could enjoy a life together.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N**: In which there's sex. High emotions. Danger. You know, the good stuff.

**.**

**.**

_**Safe House Six was on Lake Glory, on the far side, almost directly opposite the Lakeshore Country Club. **_It was set far back into the trees, nearly half a mile. The gate and the fence that surrounded the property were electrified and monitored with cameras. They were greeted by a harmless-looking man named Axel. He had the air of an alcoholic who lived and worked to get his next drink.

"Is he the groundskeeper?"

"That's Cobra," Michonne said. "Don't let his looks fool you. The man is a master with a knife and he's got almost inhumanly fast hands. He could bitch-slap Jet Li three times before the man knew what hit him."

"So he's not an alcoholic?"

"Nope," Michonne said. "He just looks harmless. Which is why we need him out front. He's the gatekeeper. He'll let us know if anyone is approaching."

The trees were heavy, towering over the neatly paved drive that led to the house. Beth was expecting a quaint little cabin. What she saw was a rambling three story brick house with real shutters that would cover the windows.

"This place is a fortress. It doesn't look like it from outside, but it is," Lori said.

Four dogs, two pit bulls and two Doberman Pinschers, came running from around the house upon hearing the truck approach.

"Let us get out first," said Andrea. She smiled brightly at Daryl. "I'm gonna have to crawl over your lap, stud."

"Be my guest, Sweetheart," he said, winking.

Beth tried not to feel jealous at their flirting. She trusted that it was harmless, that neither of them would fool around behind her back, but she knew Daryl could see she wasn't happy with the way Andrea slid across his lap to get out.

"I'd never touch her, you know that, don't you?" he whispered in her ear. "We're only joking. She's that kind of woman, who likes to play."

Beth nodded. "Don't make a habit of it."

He winked and then had her slide over his lap, too. He landed a kiss on her neck as she went, and it sent a bolt of sexual energy straight to her pussy.

"I heard the shots inside the club," Beth told him, taking a moment to look into his piercing blue eyes. "I was scared for you. I know it's soon, and I don't want to scare you off, but I love you, Daryl. I'll die if I lose you."

She kissed him quickly and then jumped out of the truck. She was unaware she'd left him breathless with joy. She'd actually said it. She'd told him she loved him.

And he loved her too.

His clients had fallen for him before. He'd never felt anything in return for them. Now he'd found someone that he loved and that he knew for certain loved him, despite his flaws. It was time, he knew. It was time to be with her, completely, and stop holding back.

**.**

******.**  


"_**Some guard dogs," Andrea said, shaking her head.**_ They'd sniffed at Daryl once and then rolled over to present their bellies for a rub, which he'd happily obliged. Beth, on the other hand, had to be carefully introduced and would still need to be careful around them since they'd growled deep in their chests.

"Caesarea's the worst," Lori noted. The female Doberman was salivating over Daryl.

"You've got a way with females of all species, Dixon," said Andrea, and then shooed the dogs away.

Inside Beth and Daryl were given a tour and also a handout that detailed every room and hiding place in the house. They were shown a panic room and how to access it from any floor.

"There are red buttons in every room of the house," Michonne explained. "Hit one and the house goes into lockdown. The shutters close, the dogs are released, and every door and entrance locks. Every one of us will be notified of the emergency, no matter where we are on the planet. Go into the panic room and don't come out until one of us summons you."

"So, are you guys sharing a room or do you want separate rooms?" asked Michonne.

"Sharing," said Daryl. He didn't miss Beth's smile.

Rick arrived at the safe house at seven o'clock, just as they were sitting down to dinner. He'd disposed of Bradwell's body and truck before taking another of his vehicles, a Jeep Wrangler, back to Flower Street. He saw the place crawling with unfamiliar cars so he went up to the unit Lori normally occupied when she had a client to watch in 2B. From there he pulled up the cameras on Lori's computer and watched the feeds from every unit in the building.

"He didn't hurt anyone, did he?" Beth asked tightly.

"No. I've got video feeds to all the units and I watched him question people. He presented himself as a policeman on a case. Nobody was spooked. He did search all of our apartments."

"Wait," Daryl said. He paused in the middle of loading mashed potatoes onto his plate. "You have cameras in our apartments?"

"I own the building. I've got feeds in every single one of them. I don't look unless I absolutely have to, so you can relax. I haven't been perving on you and your clients."

"I don't care if you watched or not, but I do care that you're a shit landlord, Grimes. You never fix anything," Daryl groused.

Rick nodded. "I can't argue there."

"We'll never be able to use the Flower Street property as a safe house again," Michonne pointed out.

Rick nodded his agreement.

"Has he identified any of us?" asked Lori.

"I don't know. I walked right past Negan and he didn't look at me twice," said Rick.

"Daryl, I took the liberty of moving your money to our accounts in the Cayman Islands," Michonne told him.

"Why am I not surprised?" he said, cutting into his steak.

"I did it just in case Negan tries to go after your money, and he did. Your assets are safe. Before you can get sore about it, you should know they tried to freeze your accounts an hour ago."

"They used me to get to Beth, didn't they?" questioned Daryl.

"It looks like," answered Rick. "You're a target now. Then, you already know that after the attack at the country club."

"We saw how you handled those men," said Michonne. "Where did you train?"

"I've picked up a few moves over the years. Merle taught me-my brother!" he said, considering Merle for the first time. "Will they do anything to him?"

"They tried to kill Beth's father and sister to flush her out. It stands to reason his brother would be a target to flush Daryl out," said Michonne.

"I'll contact Shane. Merle's in prison so there's not a lot we can do by way of protection out here. I'm sorry, Daryl."

Beth suddenly stood up. "I'm not hungry. I think I'll go lie down."

Daryl put his knife and fork down and was going to follow but Lori put a hand on his arm. "Let her be for a minute. She needs some time alone."

"You're sure?"

Lori nodded. "Take my word for it."

**.**

******.**  


_**Beth lay in bed and watched the sun fade away. **_Daryl emerged from the shower to climb under the sheets with her. He tried to spoon with her but she turned on her back so she could look up at him.

"Lori said I should give you time alone. I hope she was right. I was going to follow," he said.

"She was right. I did need the time alone."

He stroked her hair. "I know this is hard on you. I wish I could make it all go away."

"If your brother dies it'll be my fault," she said.

"Is that what you're worried about? Merle is tough as nails, baby. He can handle himself. Trust me."

"You're not worried?"

He considered lying to her for her sake, and decided against it. He didn't want lies between them. "I'm worried but I know he can handle himself. No matter what happens this isn't your fault. All this shit was dumped on you."

"Some part of you will blame me-"

"Beth, I knew the dangers of getting involved with you and made the choice to be with you anyway. I won't blame you for anything. I swear it. Put those worries out of your mind."

He took a deep breath. She'd told him she loved him earlier. He hadn't said it back. Now, he was going to say it to a woman literally for the first time in his life.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too."

He kissed her. Daryl's body trembled from a mixture of longing and fear. He felt almost like a virgin, going into bed with a woman for the first time. In fact, it was a first time experience. He was going to make love to the woman he truly loved. He'd never done that before.

The kisses turned passionate and deep. Beth wore only a nightshirt that she'd borrowed from Lori and Daryl quickly relieved her of it. He was already naked from the shower.

"Get the covers off," Beth said breathlessly. She flicked on the lights. She wanted to see him and she didn't want anything encumbering them.

Daryl kissed down the length of Beth's body, taking time to enjoy suckling her nipples while he slipped his hand between her legs to gently slide his fingers over her swollen clit. She moaned and tangled her fingers into his hair as he moved lower. He thirsted for her as a dying man thirsted for water. He lapped greedily at her moistened folds and breathed in the heady scent of her womanhood.

Beth gazed down at Daryl, his eyes, smoky with lust, met hers as he circled her clit with impossibly fast, expert strokes of his tongue. She could feel herself approaching climax. She wanted to draw it out, enjoy it longer, but he'd found her spot with his long, thick fingers and she cried out as she crested the peak of her lust and tumbled bonelessly back down. Her instinct was to lie there, immobile as she tried to gather her wits from the most intense orgasm she'd ever known in her life, but she wanted to bring him pleasure as well.

There was a moment in which she wished she'd gotten that video on how to fuck like a pro. She wanted to please him but she'd never blown a man before. She didn't have the first clue how to do it properly.

"I don't know how to give a blowjob," she said. "I want to try."

"Later," he said. "I want you too much. I need to be inside you."

"I want you," she whispered.

She felt herself moistening again when Daryl kissed his way back up to her lips. He claimed them hungrily and positioned himself at her slick entrance.

"Yes. Now, please," she whispered.

This was what Beth had been longing for-the joining of their bodies. He slipped inside, encountering little resistance since she was completely open to him. They were a perfect fit, body and soul. Daryl gripped Beth's hip and pulled her up before sinking all the way in, eliciting a long moan from her.

"Oh, God…yes…"

Beth encouraged him to move and he did, slow and gentle at first, with her lying still beneath him. As his pace increased her hips came up to meet his. This, Daryl thought, must be what heaven is like. He'd never experienced sex this way before. He loved the woman beneath him, he loved her heart and soul, and sharing their bodies was, literally, an awesome experience for him. He'd never been a vocal lover, unless it was requested by a client, but now he couldn't stop himself from vocalizing his desire.

When the climax came Daryl thought that nothing in the world mattered. He forgot the danger they were in. He forgot that his entire life had been changed, some ways for the worse, mostly for the better, by meeting and loving the woman he was no joined with. When he came it was so intense, with pleasure and with love, that Daryl felt tears sting at his eyes and his breath hitched.

"I love you," he panted, and she wrapped her arms around him. "God, I love you, Beth Greene."

**.**

******.**  


_**Heather Headley played on the stereo. **_Her voice poured from the speakers, pure and sweet, lamenting that she'd met a man who broke her heart and how deeply she wished she wasn't in love with him. Lori sat on the bedside with a scotch on the rocks. She drained it before setting the glass on the bedside table.

"It must be bad if you've broken out Heather Headley," Andrea said, emerging from the bathroom, naked from her shower.

Lori offered a wan smile. She wanted it to be bright and happy for Andrea's sake but she couldn't fake it.

"Don't smile if it's not in you. I don't need you to fake being happy for me," Andrea said, sitting down next to her. "If you're sad, be sad. If you're angry, be angry. Be what you feel. I'm here no matter what."

Lori let the tears fall.

"It's about Michonne and Rick getting together, isn't it?"

Lori nodded.

Andrea ran her hand comfortingly over Lori's back and let her cry.

"Why can't I get over him completely? It's over. I know it but there's this…"

"You love him, Lori. You can't help that. He's the father of your child. You gave him your most important gift-your heart. It's not your fault he took it knowing he'd already given his to Michonne. There are times I want to kick his ass and times I want to just hug both of you."

Lori wiped the tears away as she lay down. She regarded Andrea for a long time. The woman was everything a person could ask for in both a friend and a lover. She was understanding and undemanding, and Lori was scared to death she'd hurt Andrea.

"I don't deserve you, Andrea."

"Lori-"

"No, damn it. I don't. I'm so scared I'm repeating the mistakes of my past, only this time I'm Rick and you're me. I'm so scared I'm using you to try to get over the person I really love."

"That's exactly what you're doing," Andrea said in a tone completely free of bitterness or judgment. "The difference is I know what I'm getting into with you. When you first got with Rick he held everything about Michonne back from you. God, you two were together five years before you fully understood everything about his past with Michonne."

Lori nodded miserably. "I know."

"I want what you have to give. Nothing more, nothing less."

"But I'm so fucking damaged. I'm just a pile of broken pieces," Lori said in a hitching voice.

"And I love every broken piece," Andrea answered. She straddled Lori and put Lori's hand over her heart. "I've got a special case right here. It's made especially for you, so I can carry all of your broken pieces so that they don't break even more."

Lori sat up and pulled Andrea into a passionate kiss. It was a kiss born of hurt, anger, and the deepest love she'd felt since she'd fallen for Rick.

"I love you. You have to know that."

Andrea nodded. "I know. I love you too."

"Make love to me?" Lori questioned, sounding small and sad and scared.

"Yes," Andrea whispered, before easing Lori back into the soft pillows of the bed.

**.**

******.**  


_**Normally, after making love to Michonne, Rick felt at peace with the world. **_He felt at peace with himself. Tonight was different. Tonight he couldn't get Lori out of his mind. He knew her. He knew that tonight she'd cried over him and Andrea was trying to clean up the mess he'd made of her. The guilt was deep and it hurt. He knew he deserved it. He stared at the ceiling, feeling his heart slow to normal, feeling his labored breathing calm. Michonne was warm beside him, one leg thrown over him, but she wasn't clueless to the battle inside of him. She just didn't know what, exactly, had him sulking in misery.

"You're not with me," Michonne said. "What's wrong?"

He considered telling Michonne about his kiss with Lori earlier that day but decided against it. Telling her would only cause trouble. It wouldn't help anything and, frankly, that was something between him and Lori. It was their business. He'd made it clear to Lori there would be no reconciliation and that he would never touch her in that way again. His conscience on that front was clear.

Lori wasn't his only concern. Beth Greene was a source of worry for him as well. He feared he'd bitten off more than he could chew and he wouldn't be able to save her. He regarded Michonne, who patiently waited for an answer.

"I'm scared that this case is going to be another Miami."

Michonne shook her head. "The client wouldn't listen to our instructions, Rick. He got himself killed. Beth isn't like that."

"Devereux had a drug dealer after him. Beth's got the fucking U.S. Government after her. Or, rather, shady members of it. What I can't figure out is Negan's part in all this. He can't be the one in charge, Michonne. He was witnessed shaking down an old man for a few hundred bucks. If he's the ringleader of a larger group that has people in the FBI and the CIA, and God only knows what other agencies, why was he in that little grocery store killing an old man for chump change?"

Michonne leaned up on one elbow and regarded him thoughtfully. "That makes sense. I hadn't thought of that."

"He's up to something. They all are. The question is what? Why are these agents in with the police chief of a small Georgia town? Especially one who basically amounts to nothing but a petty criminal, a loan shark? What does it all mean?" Rick speculated.

"Walsh knows more than he's telling us," said Michonne. "Everything is connected like pieces in a puzzle to make a larger picture. We just need to put the pieces together. If we don't we may not be able to save Beth. Hell, we may not be able to save ourselves."

"They found Beth," Rick said. He got up and pulled on his boxers and jeans. "Want a drink?"

"Screwdriver, light on the vodka."

They sat on the bed, sipping their drinks, and thinking. Rick had a brandy while Michonne sipped her screwdriver.

"I don't know how much they know about us. The agent Lori killed today may have gathered information on all of us. I'm going to call a Time Out."

Time Out was code for putting their families in protective custody. He'd put them in safe houses until the all clear was given and the case was over. This was the first time he'd ever ordered a Time Out and Michonne didn't disagree. It would be a team effort and take a few days but their families had to be protected.

"You bringing Carl here?"

Rick shook his head. "Too hot to be around me right now. I'm having him, Lori's parents, and my mother taken to the Colorado residence. Carol and Glenn will respectively decide where to move their families. What about your parents and sister?"

"I'll send them to the New Orleans residence," she said. She regarded Rick. "They know about Daryl. Think they'll try something with his brother?"

"I thought of that. I decided to call Abraham. He can go in and guard Merle on the inside until this is over."

Michonne nodded. "Jacqui's here. She and Jim can work on this."

"When did Jacqui get here?"

"She's been here for three days. She wanted to take a break from the Marsden case."

"You mean Gene wouldn't quit hitting on her," Rick said, smiling.

"Most likely."

Their phones sounded off simultaneously. Michonne looked at her screen. "777 from Walsh."

She and Rick hurried to finish dressing and emerged into the hallway to see that Lori and Andrea were coming their way. From the disarray of their hair and clothes Rick guessed he and Michonne weren't the only ones rolling in the sack that night. He found it hard to meet Lori's eyes. Not that she was actually trying to look at him.

"We've got an extraction," Andrea said. She was looking at Rick with anger, which was rare for her. He understood. Just as he'd known, Andrea was trying to clean up the mess he'd made with Lori and, of course, Andrea was on Team Lori in their seemingly never-ending battle.

Rick made decisions quickly. He was the Ringleader for a reason. His strengths were good in the field but he organized better, and he trusted his team to be able to handle themselves. Being female meant absolutely nothing in this line of work. These were women who didn't need a man to ride to their rescue-they did that job and they did it well.

"I'm in the war room," he said. "I'll organize from here. Michonne, you and Andrea will retrieve Walsh. Have Jacqui go as backup. She's been out of the action a little while. She needs to sharpen her skills. Lori, you're guarding Beth and Daryl."

"And I'm being put on babysitting duty why?" Lori demanded, her eyes meeting Rick's. "They're in a fortress for God's sake."

"You're emotional right now."

"Bullshit!" she said heatedly. "I'm more than capable of going into the field."

"We don't have time to argue this. You've been crying. I believe you'd be a danger in the field to the others. You're staying here. If, on the off chance we're attacked, you'll keep Beth and Daryl safe and guard my back. End of discussion. Move out."

There was no more to be said on the issue. Andrea kissed Lori quickly goodbye and then headed out with Michonne to suit up and gather their arms.

"What did Rick mean Lori's emotional?" asked Michonne.

"You're officially back on, Michonne," Andrea snapped. "What do you think he meant?"

Andrea's words were biting and Michonne felt guilt stab strongly at her gut. If only she hadn't chosen to go to the army. If only she'd not gotten spooked and ran away. Lori wouldn't have been dragged into their problems. She wouldn't have been hurt.

Jacqui had their guns lined up on a table in the armory. All that was left was to put on their vests and go.

"Good to be back in the action?" asked Michonne.

Jacqui smiled. "After three months of putting off a horn-dog half my age? Yeah, it's very good. I'd rather risk being shot than have to slap that preppy little white boy on the face one more time for grabbing my ass."

Andrea and Michonne smiled despite themselves.

"I've got Walsh's location," said Jacqui. "Which one of us is driving?"

"You are," she said, and tossed Jacqui the keys.

_Just be alive when we get there, Walsh,_ Michonne thought, and climbed into the front passenger seat of the truck.


	14. Chapter 14

_**The address given was a secluded one, which Michonne was glad for, because it meant less risk that an innocent bystander would be harmed or that the police would be called in. **_

She, Andrea, and Jacqui pulled up to a house set off of one of the many back roads that Georgia had to offer. They climbed out to the sound of tortured cries. They assumed it was Shane making those sounds and when they reached the back yard they discovered they were right.

"I've been waiting months for this moment, you fucking piece of shit," Negan said.

Shane lay on the ground, curled into a ball, while Negan repeatedly kicked at him. Jacqui nudged Michonne in the side.

"I see two," she whispered. "One on either side of the yard."

"Take them out," said Michonne, nodding at Jacqui and Andrea. "I'll get Negan."

Andrea and Jacqui took out the two guards with headshots. The men fell and Negan stilled, looking around for the source of the shooters when he saw his men lying dead at their posts.

"Martinez! We got company!"

"We've got this," whispered Andrea.

"I'm going to circle around," Michonne answered, and left to move toward the front yard. She encountered a man exiting the front of the house. She tried to fire but he kicked the gun from her hand and made to swing at her. He was a huge man with a shaved head and tattoo sleeves on each arm. He was so pale, with reddish white eyes, he could only be an albino.

"Name's Tiny."

"How very inappropriate," she responded.

"What's yours, cutie?"

"None of your damn business."

"Shame. I'd like to have had some fun with you before I beat you to death. I just might still."

"No funnin' is gonna happen between us," she said. She pulled a knife from her belt and took a swing. He brought his hand up to block the blow and the scalpel sharp blade slid through his hand like butter. He didn't cry out but he looked at his blood spilling from his wound with a look of disbelief.

Michonne pulled the blade back and used his surprise to her advantage by driving the knife straight into his forehead. His body fell to the ground, jerked a few times, and went still. Michonne put her blade away, grabbed her gun, and circled around back while Jacqui and Andrea exchanged gunfire with men who emerged from the house.

In the back yard, Andrea nailed the final assailant but not before he fired off a round that put a searing pain in her right side. She fell to the ground while Jacqui trained her gun on Negan, who now had Shane on his feet and pressed against his body, using him as a shield.

"Well, ain't you cold as ice, Pretty?" Negan said, watching Jacqui keep her eyes and her gun trained on him and ignoring Andrea, who lay on the ground sweating and grunting in pain. "Not even a glance for your partner."

"Let Agent Walsh go," Jacqui said.

"You'd make a fine addition to my team. Whatever they're paying you, I can triple it."

"Slavery ended a hundred fifty years ago so I'm not for sale."

"Take the shot," Shane said.

"I can't risk it," Jacqui answered.

"I said, take the shot, Razor."

"I'll take the shot only if Ringleader gives the order."

"That's your little code name? Razor? Why is that?" Negan asked. He was obviously stalling for time.

"She's got razor sharp eyes and a steady hand. She can make the shot," Andrea said.

"Hold the shot," Rick's voice said through the earpiece that Jacqui, Andrea, and Michonne were wearing. "Hold the shot. Take him alive if possible."

Negan slid behind Shane even more, trying to narrow his head and his body with Shane's, but Jacqui knew she could nail him. Her fingers itched to pull the trigger but she didn't. She followed orders.

"You've got incoming," Rick said. "I can see them on the Satellite feed. Two trucks."

"We need to end this, now," Jacqui said. "We've got incoming."

Negan began to laugh. "My boys are gonna eat you bitches alive."

"Let him go."

Michonne had snuck up behind Negan and put the gun to his head. He froze for a moment before releasing Shane.

"Slap these on him," she said to Jacqui, who holstered her gun and put cuffs on Negan. Michonne grabbed Shane, putting an arm around him. He kissed the side of her face.

"I never should have let you go."

She rolled her eyes. "God, he's beaten you silly."

"No, I mean it. Thanks."

"You're welcome. I'm back with Rick."

"Oh… My bad luck."

They reached the truck, with Michonne having to help both Andrea and Shane, while Jacqui put Negan in the bed of the truck. Shane held a gun on him in case they needed him hostage to escape any pursuit, but they were gone in the opposite direction before Negan's men reached the driveway to the house.

Shane looked at Negan. "You're under arrest, motherfucker."

.

_**Daryl sighed and rested his head on Beth's shoulder.**_ She stroked his hair, feeling him soften inside her. He held her against the wall as though she weighed nothing. Warm water from the shower rained down on them as they caught their breath and smiled at one another.

He'd walked into the shower with her to scrub her back and things quickly got out of hand.

"Now we actually need to get clean," she said, laughing.

"Sorry. Couldn't help myself."

"Don't ever be sorry for giving me mind-blowing orgasms."

"Deal."

They did the job of washing one another, running their hands over each other's bodies, their eyes rarely breaking contact.

"I'd better get this," she said, taking the washcloth and cleaning between her legs. Daryl gave her a roguish grin.

"If you insist."

They came down to breakfast to find a new face mixed in with the familiar ones sitting around the table. She was a beautiful black woman with a sharp sense of style and keen eyes.

"What took you guys so long?" Rick asked. He looked up from his coffee, noted their hair wet from the shower, the ruddy glow to their faces, and said, "Oh. Never mind."

"Daryl, Beth, this is Jacqui. Jacqui, our clients, Beth Greene and Daryl Dixon," Rick said, introducing them.

"Nice to meet you," Daryl said, kissing her hand.

She smiled brightly at him. "It's very nice to meet you, too."

There was a flirtatious tone to her voice.

Beth shook her hand, wanting to inform her that Daryl was taken, but decided that would make her come off as insecure as she felt. Jacqui wasn't only pretty, she was closer to Daryl's age. She had no problem with the age gap but she worried Daryl would change his mind once the novelty wore off and the years started to pass.

They sat down to breakfast and Beth noticed the absence of a few of their own.

"Where are Michonne, Lori, and Andrea?"

"Michonne's tending to Agent Walsh. He was hurt last night," Rick explained. "Andrea was shot and Lori's taking care of her."

"She was _shot_?" Beth asked in alarm.

"Just a flesh wound. A few stitches and some ointment and she'll be fine. More importantly it looks like you're going to be okay, too. There's been a break in the case. We'll know more about it as soon as Shane is up on his feet."

Beth took Daryl's hand in hers. "Maybe this nightmare is finally about to end."

"Let's hope."

.

**TWO WEEKS LATER**

Beth took aim with the crossbow and fired at the target. She hit the outer edge of the board. It was a massive improvement from the earlier lessons in which she failed to hit the target at all.

"Much improved, Sutton," Daryl said, startling her.

Beth pointed the bow toward the ground. "Not by much."

"At least no animals died this time."

"Daryl," she said, tilting her head to the side.

"Don't feel guilty about that raccoon, either," he teased. "You nailed it right through the heart. It didn't feel a thing."

"Daryl!"

He laughed aloud, a rare thing with Daryl Dixon, and kissed her.

"Load another bolt," he said.

"Why, you gonna show off?"

"Me? Show off? Never."

He helped her take aim and fired the bolt. It hit dead center on the target.

"I think you just wanna press your body up against mine," she said quietly.

"I think you might be right," he whispered, before kissing her lightly on the neck. He could tell something was off, however, and he stopped the kissing to turn her to face him. She let the bow hit the ground and threw her arms around him.

"Today's the day," she said.

"I know. You're gonna do fine," he assured her. "Just tell the truth. That's all you can do."

She nodded. The early morning fog shrouded the grounds in a dense mist. She wore a conservative black skirt suit with a white blouse. Her hair was pulled into a bun and she wore just a touch of makeup. She looked older than her nineteen years. Daryl was dressed in a gray suit. He'd trimmed his hair and looked sharp enough to be an attorney about to question her as a witness in the Cooper murder case.

"He'll be there," she said.

"He's not a threat. You'll have six assassins there and one really protective boyfriend who'll kill a motherfucker if he tries anything. You'll be safe."

She nodded. "I know. I just wonder if it's really going to be over now."

"From what you told me, Cooper was a good man, but he's small change compared to the other stuff Negan's mixed up in, Beth. Your part in this is over. Whoever Negan's mixed in with doesn't consider you a threat now that Negan's been captured. Come on."

He took her hand and led her back into the house. As soon as they opened the door it was to chaos. Everyone was dressed in suits and hurrying to get ready to leave. Jacqui emerged from the kitchen with Andrea.

"You missed breakfast, Sweetie. You'll have to wait until after court to eat," she said.

"I couldn't eat right now if my life depended on it."

"Oh," Andrea said, and kissed her lightly on the cheek before baldly admiring Daryl. "Hey good-lookin'. You sure do clean up nice."

"Why, thank you, madam," he said suavely, as he kissed her hand.

"When you're done with him, Lori and I will take him."

"That'll never happen," Beth said. She wanted to smile but her stomach was twisted in knots. Andrea put a comforting hand on her shoulder and then ran up the steps to hurry Lori along.

Rick and Shane called Beth into the kitchen. The smell of fried eggs and bacon normally whet her appetite but today it only upset her stomach. She belched and prayed she didn't puke, even though her belly was completely empty.

"You might feel better if you ate a little something. Toast, maybe," said Rick.

"I'll pass."

"We're taking you to court in Savannah. They're trying the case there because Negan won a change of venue," he explained.

"There's been two attempts on his life."

"Daryl said Cooper was small change. Then why did the government come after me?"

"Negan's been singing like a canary to save his own ass," Shane said disdainfully. "He got in with an agent named Carstairs. Carstairs took care of the money while Negan did the hits for several higher ups in the FBI and CIA. These killings were strictly for personal grudges and gain. Four agents have been arrested in addition to Carstairs."

"So why do I even have to testify?"

"Because you saw him murder an innocent man," said Shane.

"What charges are being brought against him now?"

"Today we're testifying about the Cooper murder. That's your part in it. Then Negan goes on trial for attempted murder against Shane. We received this."

Rick slid a sheet of paper to Beth. She read it over quickly.

_The Greene family is no longer a threat._

"Who sent this?" she asked.

"We don't know. Probably never will," answered Rick. "The point is the Cooper murder is just a side issue. Now that Negan's been arrested and he's talking, you and your family are no longer on the radar."

"So, I'm free?"

Rick smiled and nodded. "You're free."

Michonne poked her head into the kitchen. "We'd better leave a little early. Traffic's a bitch. Accident on 84."

"Let's roll," said Rick.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Rather than burn off to reveal**_ a bright summer day, as Beth had hoped, the fog remained, thick and gray, making Beth feel as though she was trapped in perpetual twilight. The ride was quiet, with everyone opting to listen to a radio station out of Savannah that gave regular reports on the traffic accident.

"Nine car pileup," Michonne said, with a shake of her head.

"That's because some idiots drive in any kind of weather like it's dry and sunny. They can't see twenty feet down the road yet some fools will drive thirty miles per hour over the speed limit," said Rick. "Good thing we left an hour early."

They wound up at the back of a line of cars almost two miles long. Horns honked. Tempers flared. Other drivers resigned themselves to the wait and turned off their ignitions to conserve fuel.

Forty-five minutes later traffic began to move again but at a slow crawl. Beth pressed her face to the window as they passed a line of mangled vehicles. She pitied the people involved in the carnage. There was blood on the road but thankfully no bodies were in sight.

"Just to be on the safe side, Beth, lie down and put your head in Daryl's lap. I don't want you visible to anyone on the side of the road," Rick said.

Daryl pulled off his jacket and bundled it into a pillow. She maneuvered herself on the seat until she comfortably rested against Daryl.

"You thinking this is some kind of setup to catch Beth?" asked Daryl.

"No way of knowing," said Shane. "We just need to be cautious."

Thankfully there was no trouble. The rest of the ride was smooth sailing and they arrived at the courthouse with a few minutes to spare.

…

_**Beth was relieved to be off**_ the witness stand. The court was closed to the public. Only necessary officials and witnesses were allowed in. Negan had opted for a bench trial in the matter of the Cooper murder.

He'd sat at the defense table with his eyes glued to Beth in a cold and hateful stare as she'd given her testimony. She'd found it difficult to speak up until she thought of her father, how he'd almost died. She'd lost so much to that day in Cooper's Grocery.

Her eyes went to Daryl, who sat at the back of the court room. She couldn't deny that she'd gained a great deal as well. She'd met and falling in love with a good man and made wonderful new friends. Not everything that had come out of that chance event had been awful.

It was easy to draw strength from Daryl. Just knowing he was there was a comfort. Now, as she gazed at him, she didn't find it at all difficult to stand up under the weight of Negan's glare. She completed her testimony and was released from the stand.

"You ready to eat now?" asked Daryl, putting an arm around her. "I can hear your belly growling."

Beth nodded. "Now that it's over I'm starving. We should go for pizza."

"I know a place not far from here," said Shane. He looked away as a woman with red hair approached, smiling.

"Detective Mercer! Surprised to see you here," he said, offering his hand.

"I'm as keen as anyone to see Negan get what's coming to him. Good work, Walsh. Maybe now we can weed out the corrupt cops back in Senoia."

"You had a hand in it, Brigid," he replied.

She bowed her head in acknowledgement and smiled at Beth. "You were very brave to testify today, Miss Greene."

"Thanks."

"You want to join us for pizza? We could, uh, have that drink we talked about," Shane said.

Brigid clapped Shane on the arm. "I'm heading home. Gotta get back in time to pick up the kids. I'll take a rain check."

"You got it."

Shane very clearly enjoyed the back view as Detective Mercer walked way. Beth snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Pizza, Agent Walsh. Pizza."

…

_**Perception of time could be a tricky thing. **_The ride to court had seemed to fluctuate between crawling by and speeding by. Now, on the way home, Beth felt it simply crawled by. She sat next to Daryl, contemplating the news that Agent Carstairs had died in the wreck on the highway. She listened to the steady thump of the windshield wipers and the beat of the rain on the truck, wondering how much of that was a coincidence and if someone had been waiting to kill her as they'd driven by the wrecked cars. What bothered Beth was that Carstairs hadn't been the only casualty in that 'accident.' Two other people had died with him.

"Those people…if I hadn't gone to the store that day for ice cream I wouldn't have witnessed Mr. Cooper's murder. I wouldn't have gone on the run. Agent Carstairs wouldn't have been murdered and taken two innocent people with him."

Daryl squeezed her hand. "None of that was your fault, Beth. That's on Carstairs and whoever killed him, not you."

She took very little comfort from his words, even though she knew they were fact.

"I want us to have a talk when we get home," Daryl said quietly, under the sound of the rain the wipers, and the music that spilled from the speakers.

"About what?"

"Our future," he said.

Beth felt cold in her stomach at those words. What did he mean he wanted to talk about their future? She worried it over for almost an hour before they reached home. They emerged from the truck and received a wet and sloppy greeting from the guard dogs.

Exhausted, Beth peeled off her jacket once she reached the bedroom. Eight hours total on the road, the testimony, news of Carstairs' death, the dreary weather, and worry over Daryl's comment, took it out of her. She made her way to the shower and turned the water on as hot as she could stand it.

"You got quiet on the way back," Daryl said, when she came into the bedroom to change into her pajamas. "Something wrong? You're not still beating yourself up over the accident, are you?"

"I'm just tired is all."

Daryl wasn't buying it. He could sense something was off. "Baby, what's wrong? Don't shut me out, please."

"You said we needed to talk about our future. Sounded like a prelude to a break-up."

Daryl burst into laughter. "No! I just wanted to know where I'm gonna fit into your life now. I mean, do you plan to stay in Springston? Do you plan to back to the farm?"

Beth gave it serious consideration. She hadn't really thought of what she would do now that the drama was over and she and her family were safe.

"I don't know. I'd love to be near my father but…I want to be wherever you are. You've become home for me."

Daryl felt pain in his chest. It was the kind of pain born of love and happiness. He swallowed. "I am?"

Beth nodded and put her arms around him.

"We'll work it out," he promised, feeling Beth yawn against his chest. She hadn't been lying about being tired. He was, too. "We won't be apart."

"Come to bed. We need some rest and I want you to hold me."

Daryl snuggled up behind her. "We'll figure it out in the morning," he said, but she was already asleep.

…

_**At first Beth thought the loud**_ crack and the shaking around her was part of a dream she'd woken from. Instead she opened her eyes to see a bright orange glow outside of her bedroom window, which faced the front of the house. Warning sirens began to blast through every room.

"Beth, get up," Daryl said.

The sound of gunfire and a man crying out shot even more adrenaline through Beth's body. She was wide awake when she jumped out of bed and followed Daryl to the door. He made certain it was locked and then grabbed his shoes.

"Put your shoes on. We may have to go outside."

She hurried to slip into them. Someone banged on the door, making her heart thunder even harder.

"Beth? Daryl?"

"Lori," whispered Daryl.

He unlocked the door and yanked it open. Lori shoved a gun to his chest. "We've got a breach. The gun is really simple. Point and pull the trigger."

"I know how to shoot," he said.

"I do too," said Beth.

Lori reached down to her ankle and pulled a small gun from a holster under her pant leg and gave it to Beth.

"We're going to get you to the panic room. Don't come out for anything or anyone but Rick, Michonne, or one of the team. Even if they identify themselves as police."

"Got it," Daryl answered.

They followed Lori into the hall. Smoke had wafted up from the first floor. It stung at Beth's eyes and burned at her throat. She stuck close to Daryl, who walked cautiously along behind Lori.

"I'll cross the staircase first," she whispered. "I'll cover you from the other side."

She'd taken just one step out when a bullet whizzed dangerously close to her head and slammed into the wall behind her. Rather than duck back, Lori began to fire as she rushed across the hall.

"Come on!" she shouted, still firing down the stairs. Daryl tucked her beside him, using his body as a shield, and rushed Beth across the hall.

"Why did you do that?" she demanded. "They could have shot you."

"I'm keeping you safe," he answered. "I'll die before I let something happen to you."

Lori approached a pad fitted into the wall. She punched in a code but nothing happened.

"Fuck," she whispered.

"What?"

"We're locked out of the panic room. Let's go."

They ran to the room at the end of the hall. Lori ushered them in and slammed the door shut, locking it, just as several bullets slammed into it, making heavy thudding sounds.

"The door is bullet proof," she said, pulling out her phone. She went to the window and looked down.

The back yard was empty with the exception of two men keeping watch by a black SUV. The yard lights illuminated them fully but they were unable to see into the darkened bedroom that Lori was in.

"Come on, Rick," she said. She received no answer and hung up.

"Follow me," said Lori.

"The bathroom?" Beth said.

"Secret passage," Daryl answered. "You should have studied the schematics of the house, Baby."

"I will if we live through this," answered Beth.

Daryl squeezed her shoulder as he nudged her along in front of him, careful to keep to her back, again acting as a shield should someone breach the room and start shooting.

"I thought this was over," said Beth.

"So did we," Lori answered. She walked into the shower and pulled on the hot water handle. The tiles beside her seemed to crack and give way as they moved inward and to the left, revealing a dark staircase. Lori flipped a switch and yellow bulbs emitted a very dull light, just enough to see the steep winding staircase in front of them. Once they were all inside, she pressed a button that sealed the entrance.

"Keep moving. We're going to the rear garage."

Beth carefully navigated her way down the winding staircase. The metal grating the steps were made of echoed around them. It was such a tight, steep descent Beth began to feel dizzy. She was grateful when they reached the bottom and had a moment to stop and get her bearings.

"Someone disabled the panic room," Lori said, looking at Daryl.

"How is that possible?"

Lori shook her head. "A hacker could do it. They'd have to be very good. Better than Michonne, who designed the system."

"Or maybe someone on the inside?"

"That's possible. Unlikely, but possible."

"What do we do now?"

Lori was looking at a screen set into the wall. "The garage is clear. There's an armored truck inside. We're going to get in it and drive to another safe house."

"But what about Andrea and the others?" asked Beth.

"They can take care of themselves. This is about getting you to safety. Follow me."

When the door was open Lori went through first, pointing her gun ahead of her. She cleared the room, though she didn't like the partially open garage door. She checked under the truck, which looked like something from a dystopian sci-fi movie, and then checked behind it.

"Clear," she said. Her phone buzzed. She pulled it out to answer it. "Andrea. We're in the rear garage with the armored truck," she whispered. "Everyone else?...We'll wait."

It took two minutes for Andrea to arrive. Those minutes had seemed to stretch into eternity, leaving Beth exposed every second of it, before Andrea finally entered through a door on the other side of the garage. She kept imagining someone jumping out of the truck to shoot at her.

"Rick's with Michonne and Shane," Andrea said, coming in and giving Lori a kiss. "He wants you to get them to safe house seven."

"That's the plan," Lori said, nodding. "You're coming with, right? You're wounded."

"I thought I'd stay and help."

Lori side eyed Andrea. "What are you not telling me? I'm not a kid, Andrea. I can take whatever it is you have to say."

"Jacqui and Axel are dead."

"Goddamn it," Lori hissed. "Who is this? FBI? How many are there?"

"We don't know how many there are or who they're with," answered Andrea, leading them around to the back of the truck where she grabbed the handle of the door to let Beth and Daryl slip in. "Let's get going. We'll wait for Rick to-"

"Down!" Daryl shouted, shoving Beth and Andrea out of the way. Beth hit the cold concrete floor of the garage just as she heard a booming sound and Daryl cry out. She looked back to see him raise his gun and fire.

"Daryl!"

A man fell face first from the truck with a bullet wound directly center of his forehead. Beth shoved the body off Daryl and knelt by his side. He had a gunshot wound in the upper right side of his chest and his eyes were closed.

"Somebody help!"

"Help me get him into the truck!" Lori shouted.

"Do something!" Beth wept, hysterical now.

"We'll get him to the hospital but you have to help, Beth!" Andrea shouted.

She helped Andrea and Lori pick him up and put him into the back of the truck where blood and brains had been sprayed. Beth didn't care about the gore or the stench of death. Daryl's breathing was ragged and blood was spreading from the wound at an alarming rate.

"Please, please, please," she wept.

"Put pressure on the wound," Andrea said, yanking the door shut.

A moment later the truck fired to life and rocked as Lori drove out of the garage. Someone was firing at them but it didn't stop the truck, which kept going. Beth watched as Daryl became pale and, to her horror, stopped breathing.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N**: We're coming to the end of the fic. Only one chapter left, guys!

**...**

_**Beth sat in the waiting room**_ of the ER. She'd been informed by the staff that Daryl had been taken back for surgery but that had been nearly two hours ago. She supposed that a lack of word was a good thing. It meant he was still alive. Had he died someone would have come out by now to inform her.

At first Beth had paced the floor, unable to sit still for more than a few minutes at a time. Now she remained seated, unable to imagine having the strength or energy to get to her feet. She felt powerless, scared, and drained.

"When a person is in love the way Daryl loves you, they'll raise their fists to God and the Devil alike to hang on," Andrea said. "A person in love will do anything to keep the one they love happy. He'll make it back to you."

"What if he doesn't, Andrea?"

Andrea considered the question for a moment, her hand covering Beth's. "Then you'll suffer. You'll hurt, you'll be angry, and then you'll heal. It seems impossible now but you'll move on. You'll never forget but you _will_ heal."

It was six a.m. when the doctor came to speak with Beth. She had longed to see him appear with news about Daryl. Now she was afraid of what he would say.

"Mr. Dixon suffered quite a bit of damage to his shoulder and some damage to his right lung. A bullet fragment came close to his heart but we've removed it. He's critical but stable."

"When can I see him?"

"Are you related to him?"

"I'm his girlfriend. I'm the only family he has."

"He's unconscious and will be for quite awhile. I can allow you just a couple of minutes with him but then you'll have to leave."

"We'll be here," Lori said, kissing Beth on the forehead.

She looked tiny and scared as she followed behind the doctor. Lori watched her until the doors swung shut, closing Beth off from sight.

"You okay?" Andrea asked, rubbing Lori's back as she leaned forward, her elbows on her legs, her head down.

"No. It's been a bad night."

"I'm sorry," Andrea said softly. "I'm so sorry."

**...**

_**Rick sat at the desk in**_ the command hub. He'd managed to get some of his systems back up and running. He now had eyes on most of the yard and the grounds, and all of the interior of the house. He counted three intruders. All three were cops from Senoia. One was Brigid Mercer.

"Michonne, Mercer is heading for the rear garage. The armored truck is gone," said Rick. Both Michonne and Shane could hear him through the earpieces they wore.

"I saw Lori drive off. I think she got Beth out," said Michonne.

"Where's Andrea?" Shane asked.

"I haven't seen her. She could be with Lori, helping protect Daryl," said Michonne.

"There's a dead man and a lot of blood in the rear garage," Rick said. "We need to establish contact with Lori and find out what happened. Okay, Shane, you've got two men in the upcoming hall that leads to the kitchen, on your left."

Shane didn't respond. He was keeping quiet so as to keep the element of surprise. Rick watched as he halted at the corner and peered around.

"Take the shot," said Rick. "They attacked our safe haven. They don't get out of this alive."

Shane came around the corner where both men were talking, their guns lowered, their guard down, and opened fire. He took both men out with head shots since he could see they both had on armor.

"Mercer is the last one," Rick said.

"I'm on my way to Michonne's location as backup," Shane said. "Fuck. I'd really hoped she was one of the good guys."

"Noted," replied Rick.

Michonne stood in the shadows. "I see her," Michonne whispered.

"Careful, Baby. Don't let her get the drop on you."

"Never," she answered.

Rick was tense as he watched Mercer come out to search the yard. Mercer froze with her back to Michonne when she heard the click of the gun.

"Don't move," Michonne said. "Drop your weapon and lace your hands behind your head."

Mercer failed to respond. Instead she stood perfectly still.

"You know I'll kill you," Michonne said. "Drop it."

"You must be Michonne," Mercer said.

The gun slipped from her grip. That was when Rick realized she had something slipping out of her sleeve.

"Knife!" Rick shouted.

Michonne had just enough time to fall back as Mercer brought her right arm around in a deadly arc. The knife in her hand would have slashed across Michonne's throat had she moved just a second slower. Mercer's foot lashed out while Michonne was off balance, kicking the gun from her hand. Another spin on her heel and her booted foot caught Michonne in the chest.

"Mercer!" Shane shouted, just as she was about to drive the knife down on Michonne.

Instead of stopping and surrendering she took off across the yard, disappearing into the inky darkness by the fence. Shane fired but Rick wasn't sure he'd managed to hit her.

"You okay?" Shane demanded.

"I'm fine, go. Go!"

Shane ran after Mercer, who had disappeared through a breach in the fence. Rick felt a cold sense of dread in his stomach at that. Only he and his team knew of that breach. Or so he'd thought.

"Get back in. Come in, now, to the hub. I'm calling Jacqui and Axel back in from the Marsden case."

"On our way," Michonne said.

They arrived at the hub a minute later. Most of the screens were dark but Rick had managed to get some of them up and running. He didn't like the information they displayed as his nimble fingers danced across the keyboard.

"The house is clear?" Shane asked, coming in and locking the door behind him.

"Clear," Rick confirmed.

"What are you looking at?"

"I've been looking into the breach," Rick explained. "I've uncovered evidence that we were compromised from the inside."

"A traitor? No. Not possible," said Michonne. "None of our people would betray us."

"Well, one of ours did. I'm no longer sure Beth was the real target," said Rick.

"Then who was the target?" asked Shane.

"Michonne."

Michonne shared a lingering look with Shane.

"Someone on our team put a hit out on me?" she finally asked.

"That's right. I'm having trouble reaching Axel and Jacqui. Call Andrea and Lori in. Have them bring Beth back. Send one of our associates in to stand guard over Daryl, just in case, though I really don't think he's in danger."

"Whom shall I send in?"

"Call Tara. She'll go in on short notice."

…

_**The control hub now had three**_ more people sitting in the roller chairs under the light of the monitors. Rick brought them up to speed on what had happened while they were at the hospital and Beth gave him a report on Daryl's condition.

"Mercer got away?" Lori said. "We should go after her."

"You sure that's what you want?" asked Rick in a cool tone.

"What kind of question is that, Rick?"

"She tried to kill Michonne. She even asked her name. How would she get Michonne's name?" asked Shane.

Lori looked between Rick, Shane, and Michonne. "What are you insinuating here?"

"Mercer received a five-hundred thousand dollar deposit from an untraceable account. She disabled security without setting off a single warning. She even knew about the break in the fence. Beth wasn't the target. Michonne was, wasn't she? That's why Mercer wanted to confirm her identity. That's why she received that payment."

Lori looked incredulous. Her shock seemed genuine to Beth, but then she was no expert and could be fooled a lot easier than Rick could.

"You can't _possibly_ believe I hired Mercer to kill Michonne! If I wanted her dead I would have killed her myself."

"You haven't let go, Lori," said Rick. "You're still in love with me. I made it clear we're never getting back together so you-"

"Get over yourself, Rick! Think about what you're saying. I betrayed the team? I got Jacqui and Axel killed, Daryl shot, put Beth's life in danger, just so I could get rid of Michonne and have another shot with you?"

"Yeah, you did," Rick said without hesitation.

"Wait," Michonne interrupted. "Jacqui and Axel are dead? I thought they were responding to trouble in the Marsden case."

"God, what did you do?" Rick asked, looking horrified. "Come clean!"

"I didn't kill Jacqui and Axel. I didn't try to kill Michonne!" Lori shouted. Her eyes were now red with tears. Beth couldn't help but believe her.

"I did it," Andrea said. She spoke softly but the impact of her words were like the aftershock of an atomic bomb. Everyone stared at her in silence.

"I hired Mercer to kill Michonne," Andrea said. "I gave her the code to get in. I tried to get Jacqui and Axel to leave to the Marsden house but Mercer arrived ahead of schedule and they were killed in a firefight."

Lori stared at Andrea in disbelief. It was like she was seeing a complete stranger. "Why?"

"For you. If Michonne was out of the way I knew Rick would eventually get back with you," Andrea explained. "I couldn't stand seeing you in pain. I thought if I could make that happen you'd finally be happy. I did it because I love you."

After a few moments of silence Shane finally spoke. He looked right into Andrea's eyes and said, "I'm calling the cops. They need to come and collect their garbage."

"You got two people killed and Daryl shot…for _love_?" Beth said, unable to believe what she'd heard.

Andrea looked defeated. She sounded completely hopeless when she said, "A person in love will do anything to keep the one they love happy."

…

_**Beth remained upstairs in the room**_ she shared with Daryl while the police combed the house. They removed bodies, they took statements, and Andrea confessed to her crimes. It was that or die at Rick's hand. It had taken some convincing from both Michonne and Lori to keep him from killing her.

Now she lay in bed, exhausted, scared that she was going to lose the man she loved to Andrea's twisted sense of loyalty. Beth had never hated someone as much as she hated Andrea in that moment. She felt sorry for Lori, though. The person she'd loved had betrayed her, and the team, all in the name of loving her.

Two days passed in a blur of waking, trying to eat and usually not, showering, spending the day in the waiting room lest Daryl take a turn for the worse, then returning to the house to do it all again. On the third night the bedroom door opened while Beth was just falling off and her sister Maggie came in to lay down behind her.

Beth had never wept so hard in her life as she did when Maggie's arms were around her. She and Hershel had been informed of Andrea's betrayal and the consequences of her actions. Now they were all, the entire team, under the same roof grieving, comforting one another, trying to process what had happened. Beth was just glad to have her family back amongst all the sadness and anger. She longed for Daryl, to feel his strong arms around her and his heart thudding strong and steady beneath her ear.

In the morning Lori came into her room and sat down beside her. "I'm so, so sorry for what happened."

Beth threw her arms around Lori. "It wasn't your fault. I don't blame you, so you shouldn't blame yourself. Daryl's gonna pull through. I know it."

"I'll stay with you at the hospital," Lori said. "Maggie and I both will."

At six o'clock that evening a nurse came to the waiting room and called for Beth. "He's awake."

Beth all but ran back to his room. When she came inside she found she could hardly recognize Daryl. He was so pale and his skin slicked with sweat. His face looked oddly swollen. He was alive, and that was all that mattered to Beth.

"Daryl?" she said, taking his hand.

"Not a hot doctor this time," he said weakly.

"When you get out of here I'll wear a sexy nurses uniform and make you take your medicine."

He grinned weakly for a moment, and then sobered up. "No trouble?"

"None," she said. She'd decided to wait until after his release from the hospital to tell him about Andrea. "I love you, Daryl."

"I know. I love you, too."

She was allowed to remain by his side for another hour, most of which he spent sleeping due to the morphine, but Beth never left his side, and she never let go of his hand.


	17. Epilogue

**A/N**: I hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I have enjoyed telling it. I hope you find the ending satisfying! Happy reading, my friends.

**...**

A Year Later

_**The waters of Glory Lake sparkled**_ like diamonds in the afternoon sunlight.

Beth stood on the front porch of the sprawling log and glass house she and Daryl now called home. Construction on the place had only completed a week previously. She'd only finished cleaning the mess from the house warming party that morning. Now she was taking a break by enjoying the view of the water through the trees. A quick ten minute walk down the dirt path and she would come out at the dock where Daryl kept his speed boat.

The man himself came onto the porch with two cups of tea in hand. He passed one to Beth before they both took a seat on the porch swing. She leaned into him and breathed in the scent of his aftershave and the faint smell of sweat that clung to his skin.

"Hershel called. He says hello and to tell you he's got a new lady friend."

"He does?" Beth said, smiling. "Who is it?"

"Ms. Powell from next door."

"Aw, that's sweet. I was worried about him being lonely now that I live here and Maggie lives in Chicago with Glenn."

Daryl stroked Beth's hair back from her face. "You homesick?"

"A little, but I'll adjust. I'm happy anywhere as long as I have you."

They drank their tea in comfortable silence. Beth was going to suggest they go inside when Daryl kissed her and stood up.

"Where are you going?"

"To the woods, further back on the property. I've got some finishing touches to put on the gazebo."

"I'll come help."

"Nope. I'm working on a surprise."

"You remember?"

"How can I forget our first anniversary?"

He headed down the steps and hopped onto the ATV. Beth watched him drive off around the side of the house before heading back inside. She still had two guest bedrooms to finish putting together and that would take all day and probably a good chunk of time into tomorrow.

**…**

_**When eight p.m. came around she was**_ sitting on the couch, curled up with a good book and waiting for Daryl to come in so she could start dinner when her phone alerted her to a text. She looked down at the screen.

_Go with the women. Happy anniversary xoxo_

Beth frowned. "Go with the women?"

The doorbell rang at just that moment. Beth dog-eared the page and went to answer the door. She was shocked to see two women, probably in their early to mid thirties, dressed in skimpy Romanesque slave outfits. Behind them, on the path that lead around the house and into the woods of the property, was a horse drawn wagon covered with red and gold cloth and driven by a man also dressed as a Roman slave.

"Domina. We have come to collect you for your evening meal."

Beth barely suppressed a giggle. "Okay."

She pulled the door shut behind her and followed them to the wagon where the male slave pulled open the door and ushered her inside. She found a padded bench seat decorated with scarves and she was surprised by how soft it was when she lay down. The women rode at the back of the wagon and Beth didn't argue when they removed her sneakers and socks.

The ride was a fairly short one. When Beth climbed out her breath was stolen by delightful surprise. A short rectangular pool had been built into the ground and it was surrounded by flowers, including her beloved mums. Two more women and another man were dressed as Roman slaves. They lounged by the pool but the gazebo drew Beth's attention. It had been draped with white silk curtains pulled back to reveal that a round pile of gold and purple pillows formed into a bed.

"Domina," said one of the women. "Please allow us to bathe you."

Beth nodded, going along with the plan. She could use a bath considering how hard she'd worked and sweated during the day. The women pulled her clothes off while the male slaves were careful to occupy themselves with turning meat and vegetables on the spit.

Beth was surprised by how warm the water was when she stepped into the shallow pool. The women had poured rose scented bath oils into the water and sprinkled petals over it. Now three of them stood with large brass jugs of milk that they added to the water, turning it white. They ran their hands over her body, cleaning her of the dust and sweat that had accumulated on her skin. They washed her hair and massaged her shoulders. She found herself so relaxed she almost regretted it when the bath was over.

Daryl was nowhere in sight and she wondered where he was. She stood and the women poured warm water over her to rinse the milk bath from her skin. When that was done they gently patted her dry and began to dress her in a beautiful purple and green gown befitting a Roman lady. They dried her hair and took time to brush it until it glowed before coiling and piling it elaborately atop her head. Some of the servants moved about as her hair was styled, lighting torches set into the ground to illuminate the bath and the gazebo in the gathering darkness.

"Domina, if you will," one of the male slaves said.

Beth was led to a stone bench laid with pads. She reclined on her right side and waited to see what would happen next. A slave girl placed herself beside Beth and began to feed her grapes while another filled an ancient looking gold goblet with wine.

That was when she finally saw Daryl. He emerged from behind the gazebo and her mouth literally fell open. He was dressed as a gladiator, and he wasn't alone. Another man was also dressed as a gladiator and they were armed with swords.

"These men will fight for your entertainment," the slave said, "and the right to make love to you."

Beth knew who she wanted to win. She expected some kind of amusing play but when the swords began to clash the fight looked real. She was even a little alarmed by how viciously Daryl and his opponent went at one another. She was impressed with his skill with the sword. He'd been taking some kind of lessons all month without telling her and now she knew what those lessons were.

"Daryl!" she said, sitting up, forgetting that it was a staged event, when his opponent managed to knock him to the ground and put the sword to his throat. Her hands went to her mouth and she had a momentary flashback to when she'd watched him get shot. Her stomach clenched tightly until he kicked the blade from his opponent's hand and swept his feet out from under him.

With a quick flick of his sword he drew blood from the man's torso. The cut was shallow but it was real. The man held up two fingers, pleading for mercy.

"Shall I spare him, Domina?" Daryl asked.

Beth nodded quickly.

Daryl stepped back, away from the man and shoved his sword into the dirt. He was filthy and sweaty and damn if he didn't look good enough to eat.

"What would you have of the victor, Domina?" one of the male slaves asked.

Beth stood and approached the gazebo. "Bring him to me."

Two male slaves led him to the gazebo and then lowered the curtain, leaving her and Daryl alone. Candles had been lit to illuminate the inside of the wall.

"Daryl…"

"Domina," he said, playing the part.

"You remembered the gladiator fantasy. You brought it to life."

He reached out and pulled her to him, pressing her against his body. He was lean and hard and muscled, and she ran her hands up his chest.

"I would do anything for you."

"I love you," she whispered, her lips pressed lightly to his.

"And I love you."

"Show me how much you love me."

His hands were firm when they lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he lay her down on the soft pile of pillows. Under Daryl's expert touch the dress came unraveled. He opened it like a precious gift and left her naked before him. He loomed over her, his lips light as feathers as he brushed them against her neck, down the soft skin of her throat and teasingly over her breasts. He suckled her nipples gently, hardening them until it was almost painful.

The 'slaves' outside the gazebo went forgotten as Daryl's lips traveled down the soft plane of her belly. He hesitated, his breath hot on her center before his tongue darted out to lightly lick her.

"Oh, Daryl…" she breathed.

His tongue made firmer contact with her swollen, aching clit, circling her, drawing it in. She felt the light moan from his lips all the way to the core of her being where a sweet ache began to develop. His fingers, strong and thick, slipped into her wet warmth where he hooked them and began to finger her.

"Harder," she breathed.

Daryl was only too happy to oblige. He found her spot and massaged it, his mouth attacked her clit as mercilessly as he'd attacked his opponent. Beth was uncaring of having an audience as her cries filled the balmy air inside the gazebo as she came around Daryl's fingers.

Normally she was left boneless after she came. Tonight Beth had an energy inside her that galvanized her to action. She gripped Daryl by his shoulders and pushed him onto his back. With his help she removed the subligaria that covered his loins, freeing his proud erection. She wanted him in her mouth and she took him quickly, urgently, suckling him. His own moans were deep and insistent as her head bobbed in the candlelight, driving him ever closer to climax.

He suddenly gripped her arms and hauled her the length of his body. Beth straddled Daryl and placed him at her entrance. Their eyes were locked as she slid onto him. She knew he was close. She knew he wanted to finish it inside of her. She squeezed him tight as he thrust upward and into her, his hips pumping fast, hard, until he came, deep and hot and thick inside of her.

Beth collapsed beside him, breathless, sated, and at last with that glorious boneless feeling that he always left her with after sex. She rolled to her side and put a hand on his chest, feeling his heart thunder beneath her hand. He kissed her forehead and lazily stroked her back as they caught their breath.

"Where did you find the 'slaves'?"

"They're old colleagues from the business," he said. "They won't be bothered by the racket we were making."

"Mmm…They're very believable actors."

"It's their job to be. Do you want an orgy?" They'll give us one as entertainment while we eat."

Beth giggled, unable to stop herself. "Hell yeah I want an orgy. I've always wanted to witness one but never thought I'd have the opportunity."

"Your wish is my command, Domina."

Daryl clapped his hands the curtains parted. They had a clear view of the bath and the yard.

"We're ready to eat," Daryl said. "Pleasure us with a display of love."

Two women began to serve the food. Once Daryl and Beth had their plates, they watched as the slaves began to peel off their clothes. They were obviously professionals at sex and putting on a good show. Beth watched in fascination as three couples began a raunchy display of debauchery that Beth couldn't have thought up in her wildest dreams. The thing was they seemed to honestly enjoy the sex, and the act of putting it on for Daryl and Beth's entertainment.

After the orgy, after the food was eaten and Beth had her fill of both food and wine, and she and Daryl had enjoyed another bath, they returned to the gazebo and she ordered the curtains closed again. It was late, nearing midnight, and she was ready to sleep. Daryl pulled her close and she felt his breathing evening out when one of their servants opened the curtain.

"Pardon the interruption, Dominus, but you have a phone call."

He handed Daryl his cell phone, which looked and felt wildly out of place for the theme of the evening. He looked at the screen and sighed.

"Archer here. Hummingbird is with me…yeah…Understood."

"What's wrong?"

"Ringleader. We've got an extraction."

"Who?"

"Viper and Samurai are in a tight spot in Miami."

"Oh, joy."

"He'll be here in ten with a copter."

"We can't go dressed like this."

"Well, he told me we may be needed so…"

Daryl peeled back some of the pillows to reveal two sets of clothes. All black, combat ready clothes, with boots, and guns. Daryl's compound bow was also there. They quickly dressed and even though Beth was bone tired adrenaline spurred her on. A helicopter arrived and Daryl gave orders for the 'slaves' to clean up and then they could head out. Their payments would be automatically transferred.

"You made the evening magical, guys. Thanks."

They nodded but looked confused when Daryl and Beth rushed to the helicopter that T-Dog was piloting.

"Hop in guys. We've got a hot one," T-Dog said.

Rick was in the back seat. He saw the naked slaves and Beth's Roman style hair and shook his head.

"I don't wanna know," he said.

Beth and Daryl fastened their seatbelts and she watched the ground recede into darkness as they lifted off and started south to Miami. Rick briefed them on the situation and Beth made sure her gun was loaded.

"You ready for this?" Rick asked.

Beth squeezed Daryl's hand. With him by her side, she could face anything.

"I'm ready," she said, gripped her gun, and flicked the safety off.


End file.
